No One Takes Down Hit Girl But Hit Girl
by carathay
Summary: Hit Girl returns to town a few months after the end of KA2. Sure she'd figured out that she's Hit Girl, not Mindy, but the transition from girl to woman is a little bit more difficult. Especially convincing others. Then an accident during a patrol leads to being more dependent on Dave then she can handle. Chapter 17 starts a prequel to the story currently. Sorry about that.
1. Chapter 1

No One Takes Down Hit Girl But Hit Girl

_Inspired by Makokam, especially the challenge where Mindy was supposed to be confined to bed rest for 24 hours. (Although this is a full story, not a 24 hour piece.) Set post movie 2. I like that movie 2 made her 15 so I'm using that. Dave can think of her as a child, or as a sister, but I need for her to be a bit closer to his age. I'm sure all of you that enjoy these stories won't have a problem figuring out what's going on. As we all seem to beg, Reviews please! Total edit and repost. A bit of a chapter adjustment but not too much._

"Ow."

That's what Dave claimed I said. I didn't manage a "Fuck!" or a "Cocksucker!" or even some drawn out scream of rage. Not even an emphatic "OW!" I just said "Ow" quietly and collapsed onto the street. Then I woke up in the hospital after they had performed surgery on my brain.

Apparently, I'd been hit in the head by a ricochet from my own fucking gun. At least, that's what Dave and I thought. I had just taken a shot at some sleezebag and neither one of us saw or heard anyone else with a gun. So mine was the only bullet flying. The doctors removed part of a bullet from my head and luckily it hadn't hit anything important. Well, I guess my brain was important but the bullet didn't damage my actual brain tissue. And uckily, there wasn't enough left of the bullet that they could match it to the slugs I'd put into a bunch of crack dealers the night before. Since it had no use as evidence, they gave it to me as a souvenir.

I've got to remember to change my guns out more often. If that CSI show is even remotely true, the police are way too good at matching up that type of shit.

Yes, that's right. Hit Girl had not been taken out by a bad guy, a drug dealer, or a super villain. I'd managed to shoot myself in the head. Seriously, I shot myself in the head. That kind of needs to be said twice. I'm not sure how long the experience would take to get from really fucking frustrating to admitting that it was pretty funny. But in no way was I anywhere near that. Dave had tried to make bit of joke out of it, maybe to cut the tension. If I could have attacked him from out of this bed, I would have.

Stupidly, I was still a little pissed off and ashamed about the 'ow'. It wasn't all that superhero like to sound like some kid who had poked her finger. But, I guess you didn't really get to choose your exit line. We hadn't gotten a lot of time to talk yet, but Dave had managed to give me enough of the lie he told so that I didn't totally fuck up. I was supposed to claim that I'd been attacked, but the thugs hadn't managed to rape me or anything before Kick-Ass had shown up. Dave said he'd had to strip me half nude before he could safely bring me into the emergency room so that was the best story he could come up with. He had dropped me off as Kick-Ass and claimed he found me in a dark alley. Then he disappeared while they were worrying about me. Finally, he returned as Dave, a concerned friend who was there to identify me.

I couldn't fault the plan. If he had brought me in with weapons, armor, and purple hair, I might have survived the bullet wound but then ended up as the first 15 year old girl on Death Row. The police really wanted to catch me since I've made them look like a bunch of pussies on the news. Hell, maybe I wouldn't have even lived that long. I'd made a lot of enemies and a hospital room was pretty easy to sneak into. They killed Dave's dad in jail right under the noses of the guards. I'd have been easy to snuff. I had to give Dave credit for thinking of it while blood was pouring out of my head.

I still can't believe I missed Dave stripping me. Fuck that would have been fun. Oh, I suppose I should have been thinking about other things, but I was still kind of floating on all the drugs they have me on so I was just thinking about it all happy like. With me all purple like and then the purple being taken off by a green person, leaving me all pink like, then the green person starting to take off the green and then the two pink people kind of meshing. The sound of the door opening shook me out of my daydream. Dave came in. I blushed a bright crimson as I recalled my dream. I fucking hate blushing. I have an amazing poker face but I can't control a blush. I guess it was better than being a guy, because Dave would have been able to see how excited I was through this thin hospital gown. It would have been tent city.

"Why are you blushing?" he asked. "I mean, you never blush."

In panic, I quickly decided to trade one embarrassment for another. " I, umm, I need to go – umm – to the bathroom. And, I don't know, like, umm, I mean, I can't get up and… Could you call a fucking nurse please?"

Yes, I said please. I was panicking, OK?

I was interrupted by machines beeping loudly nearby and someone in the next room yelled "Code Blue! Code Blue!"

It was at this point that I realized that my excuse wasn't bullshit. I really did need to pee. Desperately. Like, my back teeth were floating kind of thing. I kind of twisted myself to look out the window in the door. It appeared that everyone in the ward had descended on the one cocksucker attempting to die in the next room. "Dave – a nurse?! I really need to... Please?! "

Fuck, there I was with the wimpy 'please' again.

He pressed the call nurse button and then tried to flag down one of the nurses in the hallway. She was extremely short with him when he asked for help. "Is she dying?" the nurse asked. Dave stammered out a "No" and the nurse replied "Well, then she'll have to wait." I somehow managed to resist screaming "Cunt!" at her as she hurried next door. I'm not quite sure how.

I mean, I didn't want the guy to fucking die, but I needed help. FEMALE HELP! I mean, I didn't care if Dave saw me naked as a jaybird, but this was different. Dave looked back at me, his face a study in fear. My mind froze. I'd had to make hundreds, maybe thousands of life or death decisions in an instant. Who do I attack first, what is the best counter to an attack, when to duck and when to charge in. All of those decisions I made in less than a tenth of a second. But it took forever to decide that pissing the bed was infinitely worse than asking Dave for help. I managed a kind of inarticulate scream of rage, then growled very quietly "Dave, get me the fucking bedpan." He stared at me for a moment, like a pedophile does at one of my knives sticking out of his crotch. That look hurt. "Grab it!" I command.

As he turned to get it, I tried to arch myself up so he could slide it under me. I barely moved. Apparently the drugs meant that my muscles were for shit. My voice cracked some as I told him to lift me up, and then I barely managed to ask him to make sure the goddamn gown was out of the way before I had to let loose. He held me but turned his head to give me what privacy he could.

I'd like to put this more delicately ('cause, you know, I'm really fucking good at that…) but I proceeded to piss like a racehorse. And the fucking pan was metal, which means it was cold on my ass and the sound echoed out of it. It was not a sound that either of us could ignore, although we both really fucking tried. I finished and he turned back, eased it out from under me, and then lowered me back down to the bed. He tried to mumble something about wiping. Oh shit. That would be more than I could handle. I mumbled back something about drip drying. I lay back and closed my eyes; I tried to pretend this hadn't happened. I couldn't believe I needed help to pee. I was terrified at the fact that I couldn't take care of such a basic task. I helped people. They didn't help me. And, after my earlier sexy daydream, I couldn't help thinking that this had been the least sexy experience I'd ever had. And it was with Dave. Dave and I had had some bad experiences, so that was saying something. It was yet another reason for him to think of me as a child. Shit. Maybe I was just a child…

Eventually, the fucker next door decided he wasn't going to die right this minute and the nurse came back to check on me. She yelled at Dave for moving me and then shoved him out the door so she could clean me up. She gave me an apologetic look. "I'm so sorry, honey. I mean, couldn't you have waited a little longer?" When she saw the shame in my eyes that I couldn't hide, she sighed. "Oh dear. I guess you couldn't. Poor baby." She finished getting me settled, and then when she turned to go, I started to fucking cry. I mean, seriously bawl. I couldn't stop. I'd never been this helpless, this weak, this needy! And for it to be in front of Dave who I knew was waiting outside until he could come back in… Fuck!

After a few minutes of trying to comfort me, the nurse asked if I wanted her to let Dave back in. Again, it took me forever to decide. I was so confused. No one, not even my daddy, was allowed to see me cry like this. Well, not after about age 4 or so. Every frigging baby cried, they couldn't help it. But by the time I was four, I'd heard enough speeches from Daddy on being a tough girl that I was too proud to let him see me upset. I might not have been Hit Girl yet, but damn it, no one got to see me vulnerable. Even when Daddy died, I didn't cry like this. I screamed. I yelled. I pushed the pain down to make an even more solid rock to stand on. Oh well, what was a bit more shame on top of everything else that had happened. I motioned for her to let him in.


	2. Chapter 2

No One Takes Down Hit Girl But Hit Girl

_Inspired by Makokam, especially the challenge where Mindy was supposed to be confined to bed rest for 24 hours. This will be a full story, but that's where the original seed came from. Set after Kick-Ass 2. Mindy is attracted to Dave but he is still clueless. Hit Girl is 15, as per the second film. As we all seem to beg, Reviews please!_

Dave entered the hospital room cautiously after I had brought myself back under control. Before he could say a word, I growled "If you ever tell anyone about that, "I gestured in the direction of the bedpan" I'll rip out your fucking balls and use them for table tennis! " He actually smiled at that. Definitely not the reaction I expected. Dave usually took my threats seriously. I realized that being covered in tears might be the problem and tried to nonchalantly wipe them away with the back of my hand. I don't think it helped. He kept grinning while I glared at him. Of course, a doctor picked that moment to join us. What was this? The crying Mindy show? Did someone sell fucking tickets?

"Oh, what the fuck now?" I asked. He seemed a bit taken aback my language, but rolled with it. I supposed that working in an ER meant he'd heard worse. "Sorry we had to knock you out while we took care of you. You started regaining consciousness as we were examining you, and, well, I'll just say you're a very strong young lady. It took two of our biggest orderlies to hold you down while we gave you the shot. Oh, you will see a charge for the broken window on your hospital bill though. I'm not sure if you remember that part. We have it on security video if you want to see it." I tried not to smile. That actually made me feel better; even half out of it, I could still put up a fight.

The doctor continued. "We kept you under until the surgery was over. It seemed safer that way. The bullet fragment was small. No brain injury is ever insignificant, but we don't think there will be any lasting damage. With any luck, you'll be just fine. But if you experience anything strange, dizziness, weakness, numbness, even problems with memory or speech, let us know right away."

I nodded back at him. I wasn't feeling all that lucky at the moment and none of those side effects sounded pleasant.

He continued. "If you have someone to take care of you, you can go home today. We don't want you walking around much for the next few days. And, let us know if anything odd happens, OK?"

"No problem, thanks for fixing my head." I told him. I guess he liked that response because he went ahead and put my chart back on the bed and walked out the door. That left me, Dave, and the nurse still in the room. I looked at Dave and couldn't resist trying to get some of my spark back. "You ready to take me home, honeybun?" Unfortunately, I didn't get as much as a blush out of him. "Sure, "he replied. "I've got everything set up at home to take care of you."

There was that "take care of me" shit again. I wasn't a damn infant. Just had a little lead to the head. Fucking sweet! It rhymed. I'd be fine on my own. I tried to sit up and the world swam before my eyes. Maybe I wouldn't be so fine. "I brought you some clothes so you don't have to go home in a hospital gown. They're a bit drafty."

"A bit?" I asked, and then continued. "Thanks. I don't think I could have handled being stuck in this room any longer. I've have had to kill someone and some pussy screaming 'code blue' wouldn't have saved them." He reached down and picked up a backpack I had missed him bringing in before. "Here are the clothes. I'll let the nurse help you. Probably safer for my health."

Given my mood, I had to agree. Dave got me checked out of the hospital, taken in a wheelchair to his car (I hate that hospital rule!) and bundled me up in the back. I sarcastically asked him where in the fuck my car seat was and he just laughed again. As we pulled away, I just stared out the window and thought about how I'd gotten here.

You see, I'd come back to the city about 2 months after we defeated the Motherfucker. Marcus had known I left; he even saw a shot of me leaving on the news. Not an actual report on me, but some cunt rag Skycam News helicopter had caught me crossing the bridge on my bike. Complete with fucking JJ Abrams lens flare and everything. The station apparently loved the shot because they now they showed it every time they went to the weather bimbo. I had looked pretty cool. Marcus had realized it was me right away and what my leaving had really meant. Admittedly the purple bike had been a bit obvious. And, once the police department decided that none of what happened had been his fault, he'd been allowed to transfer to another department across the country. I think the public aftermath of that last fight broke his spirit. He didn't try to contact me. Didn't even try my cell or my backup cell. Just packed up and left. But I'd gotten a little ahead of myself.

I had given it two months to calm down before I came back to see anyone. I figured it would be quiet enough that I could at least say hi. When I got to Marcus's place, I found a note under the rock where we kept the spare key. That wasn't a good sign, but I was nervous and just shoved it in my pocket to read later. Then, I discovered the house was empty. That felt really strange. Our home was no longer a home. Not even the furniture was left. Now I was afraid that it might be a trap so I grabbed a few irreplaceable things out of the house and got out quick. Sure the police had searched the place from top to bottom, but I'd rigged a few hiding places that no one was going to find. I packed everything up, jumped on my bike, and headed for the safe house.

Once I'd gotten in and set all the alarms, I pulled the note out of my pocket and sat down. It wasn't long. It explained how and why he left, about being cleared of charges and him seeing the fucking weather shot of me. He said didn't know and didn't even want to know if I came back. He left the note because he didn't want me to follow him. He said I was my Daddy's daughter and that Daddy had won. He was done. He needed to leave this city and me behind forever. I stared at it. He didn't even sign it. No, 'Goodbye, Marcus'. No 'Love, Marcus'. No 'Good Luck'. I ripped up the note, but the words were still tattooed on my brain. My now 'bullet scarred brain'; I had to add as we crossed the bridge and the shadows of the beams fell across me like prison bars.

I just had to sit there and accept it. Marcus was gone. And not because he had been killed. Not as part of the war or to keep someone safe, or like anything in a comic book. Then I could have avenged him. Or rescued him. I could have put him in the special place in my heart where I remembered Daddy and Mommy. But Marcus was still alive. He'd left because he never wanted to see me again. I wasn't worth all of the trouble and all of the pain. That hurt in a way I'd never felt before. "Fuck you!" I screamed at the darkness. It didn't help. Then I pulled myself together and went to find Dave.

I'd found him rather easily. He was living alone in his house, finishing school and keeping in shape. He made up big fuss over me, got a room put together, got me fed, and then let me sleep. It was all the things that Marcus _would_ have done if he hadn't pussied out. I wanted someone, anyone, to take care of me. Marcus was gone, and for the first time ever, I didn't have a father type person. Dave would have to do.

Two months on my own had taught me that even though I was Hit Girl, living on my own sucked. What's the point of taking down some fucking scumbag drug dealer or throwing 5 knives in a one inch circle if you didn't have someone to share it? Someone to boast to, someone to tease, just someone to sit with at the end of the night before I went to bed. Someone to share cocoa with. I'd never been alone. It was horrid. And, so, I didn't mind Dave taking care of me. At least at first.


	3. Chapter 3

No One Takes Down Hit Girl But Hit Girl

_Inspired by Makokam. Some of you have questioned Marcus being so abrupt, I'll explain his motives at some point. As we all seem to beg, Reviews please! Oh, and a word of advice – don't stop a chapter in the middle of a flashback. I had to re-write the opening of this section twice before I didn't hate it. I won't do that again…._

The car jostled me a bit as we drove off the bridge, shaking me out of my revelry. "Dave," I asked, "Where are you taking me?"

"My house, of course." He replied. "I want to get you back in your bed, and then I'll run out to the pharmacy and grocery store while you rest."

"Do you really think that's a good idea?" I asked. "I mean, I know you told me when I got here that you figured everyone who knew who you were was dead, but what if you're wrong? I was alright with it then, 'cause at least I could defend myself, but…"

"My decision. I'm taking care of you." He said, with a finality I'd never seen in him before I came back. That was just one of the changes I'd observed since I got back into town. I looked back out the window let my thoughts wander again.

I had been kind of brain dead after leaving Marcus' place. I'd climbed into Dave's window and scared the crap out of him when I woke him. Even in my numbed state, that never stopped being fun. I explained about Marcus leaving. Dave realized that I wasn't up to being by myself so he set me up in a bedroom at his place pretty quick. After that, I didn't do much but eat, sleep, and make non-committal noises at him when he tried to talk to me. Well, at least for the first few days. During the day, he was at school and I just zoned. In the evening, we'd sit on the couch and watch TV. By the time the show was over, I was usually pretending to be asleep with my head on his lap. I didn't actually nod off because it felt too good to have someone hold me. It was so amazing to be safe. He played with my hair, as all guys seem to instinctively know how to do when a girl is upset and then he'd pick me up and put me to bed. I felt like I was a little girl again. And I didn't mind. The outside world sucked.

After a couple of days, I felt up to conversations again, and started telling him about my time away. I'd hit up a guy who did fake ID's on my way out of town but I had still wanted to be cautious. So, I'd moved around a lot and mostly stayed in shabby motels that didn't ask too many questions. He laughed when I told him that after the first night, I'd gone to the store and bought my own set of sheets and pillows that I took from room to room. I mean, those hotels were disgusting. But they were a good place to disappear. It's a little hard to travel on a motorcycle with a big backpack stuffed with sheets and pillows but I made it work. I told him about trying to get my hair even when I cut it myself and how dying it black had stained my pillow. I saw a smile twitch on the corner of his mouth and I quickly told him that if he made one joke about the carpet not matching the drapes, he'd be a dead motherfucker. He proceeded to point out that The Motherfucker was already dead, and we laughed about that until we couldn't breathe. I felt a bit better and even admitted I'd had to get another fake ID because the picture didn't match anymore and no one would take it. More hysterical laughter followed. That had been a good night. It did a lot to cheer me up.

I told him that while I hadn't exactly patrolled while I was gone. I'd wandered through bad neighborhoods when I was feeling especially antsy and just beat up anyone who threatened me. He asked if I'd been in costume, and I'd had to point out to the dumbass that I hadn't exactly left town with a suitcase. He then asked about weapons, and I just stared at him until he broke eye contact and said "Never mind." I didn't tell him that I'd really picked fights in those alleys because I didn't know what to do with myself when I wasn't being Hit Girl. That while pummeling some scumbag didn't help me feel any better, it helped me get through a bad night. About how broken I'd felt curled up in my clean sheets on top of a filthy hotel bed in the middle of hell.

Finally, I shrugged off the depression and started getting back in shape. Maybe I could get my life and self respect back if Dave and I started going out together. Going out to break heads I mean, not dating. He joined me in the workouts and it was great at first. Except that he wasn't treating me as a partner; he treated me like a wounded animal. No amount of beating the shit out of him in practice changed that. He even mentioned that having me there was like having a sister. I wasn't sure how to take that.

There were other adjustments over the next few weeks of living together. They were the things you learn to deal with when you live with someone that you'd never even think about if you lived separately. He didn't worry about walking around without a shirt on and that made me feel nervous and fluttery inside. The house only had one bathroom, so of course we were sharing it. We fought over space by the sink. We argued about who would clean the bathroom. Underwear was left on the floor. We even had one of those really awkward moments when I realized there was no toilet paper and I had to yell for him to go get me another roll. After that I double checked every time before I sat down! Then there were even more intimate but commonplace things like him mentioning that I was on my period because of the wrappers in the trash and me yelling at him for stinking up the bathroom right before I was going to take a shower.

I'd dealt with similar stuff with Daddy and Marcus. It was just part of living with someone. But with Dave it was different. I'd re-entered Dave's life as a messed up kid climbing in the window. Not as a partner. Not even as a friend. That seemed to have set the whole tone of our relationship. Dave wasn't my dad but sure he tried to act like it. I didn't know how to change it. I wasn't in control.

Finally, I cracked. I told him I wanted us to go out on patrol. Old school. Costumes and everything. I couldn't take the father-daughter or brother-sister shit any longer. I figured it would help us get back to being real partners, especially when I saved his ass. Dave just said 'no' and went back to doing the fucking dishes. After a moment of stunned silence, I told him to get his shit together or he could go fuck himself. But he just said 'No' again and picked up another fucking plate! So, I told him what else he could fuck, in what hole, and at what angle. He said "No" yet again. As if his saying it was supposed to make some sort of difference. We yelled back and forth, sounding like one of those drama's on ABC Family, but with more swearing. Maybe ABC Family Unrated. Or ABC Family after dark. No, not that one. That would have been soft core porn.

I shoved him out of my way and ran up to my room to change into my suit. When he finally recovered from the fall, he ran after me. I hadn't bothered to shut the door and by the time he got there, I was half naked. That actually helped because as soon as he realized I was undressed, he ducked back out of the room and started yelling at me from the hallway. Somehow that pissed me off even more. Fucking hell, they were just tits! Pretty great looking tits, if I do say so myself, bit just tits! But, he just yelled at me some more with his eyes safely hidden while I zipped up, grabbed my knives and a gun, and climbed out the window. He must have been really afraid of seeing me naked because I was most of the way down the block before he'd realized I was outside and started yelling out the window at me. I flipped him the bird and headed off.

He found me downtown about an hour later. He was in costume. He tried to whisper-yell at me but I wasn't listening and he wasn't willing to make enough noise to get us in trouble. So, he gave up and followed me. Eventually, the walking helped me to get my temper under control and I started smiling like a banshee because I had won. We were out patrolling. Maybe this was going to turn out OK after all. He'd just found out that he didn't control me. He didn't have to be my protector. He wasn't my dad. I looked back at him with my evil smile. His eyes clearly said that he had given up.

As we walked, he seemed to relax as well. I began to dream about the conversation we would have when we got back. Less anger, less swearing, but him understanding that I could take care of myself. I even started to put together the arguments I would use in my head and think about what he would say back. In fact, I got so wrapped up my imaginary conversation that I didn't see the scumbag pop out from behind a building and take a shot at us. Dave pushed me frantically out of the way, saving my life. There was no doubt. Once I saw the guy, I knew where the bullet went. And it would have hit me square in the chest. Which, since I hadn't taken the time to put on my vest, would likely have killed me. I pulled my gun and fired back. The last thing I remember hearing is that bullshit ricochet sound they used in bad Westerns and a pain in my head. And as I said at the beginning of all this, Dave claimed that I just said 'ow' and then just fucking fell over. You already know what happened next, I told you at the beginning of this fucking story. I'm too mortified to repeat it. Other than to say that thank God Dave took the cocksucker out quick and then got me to the hospital.

My reverie was disturbed when I looked up to notice that we were now in Dave's neighborhood. A few more blocks and then we parked in front of the house. He got out and came around to my side. I opened the door but just sat there.

"Do you want me to carry you in or help you walk, or …" He trailed off. "Thank you for asking." I said, with the hint of a smile. "I'm still fucked up with drugs so I'll let you carry me." He scooped me out of the car and kicked the door closed with his foot. We walked up the steps and I went ahead and laid my head down on his chest. What the hell, I didn't have any dignity left anyway and it felt so damn good. Dave clumsily juggled me and his keys to try to get the door unlocked. At one point, he was basically holding me up with one hand under my ass. I liked that. Then we got inside, the door got closed with a kick, and he started to walk toward the stairs with me. "No" I said clearly. "Couch. Not bed." Jesus fucking Christ, I had even started using baby talk. I tried to pull my thoughts together a bit more so I could speak in complete sentences, but when he surprisingly agreed and put me where I wanted to be, I figured, 'fuck it.' I decided that I'd play it for all it was worth. "Cocoa. Pink Marshmallows. Now!" "Sure" he said, and meekly went into the kitchen to get me my drink. I realized I was slipping into that child role again, but somehow I didn't care. My last attempt at fighting him got me shot in the head. By my own gun. At least this way I got Cocoa. "Lots of marshmallows!" I yelled through the kitchen door. While I say there waiting, I realized my approach with him so far hadn't worked at all. So, like they said in the movies, it was time to start thinking with my head instead of my dick… Not that I had a dick… God damn it, why are all of those movies written by men!


	4. Chapter 4

No One Takes Down Hit Girl But Hit Girl

_Inspired by Makokam. Some of you have questioned Marcus being so abrupt, I'll explain his motives at some point. As we all seem to beg, Reviews please! I watched part of the first KA last night and I just cracked up at the "I'll never know what happened on Lost." bit, so anyway feel free to ignore the first paragraph. It amused me. _

Dear sodding Ann Landers. Or God. Or Thor. Or whoever the fuck is listening to this story coming out of my head. It's Mindy. I mean, who the fuck else would it be? Sorry. Hi. Can you talk back? No?! Shit! Maybe that bullet did do some brain damage. Guess I could have been a bit more polite, huh? Maybe I'm still in the hospital. Or dead. Holy shit, am I dead? No, that's just fucking confusing. Life would be better than this if I was dead. Wait, I wouldn't have a life if I was dead. But surely whatever came after life would be better and Daddy would be here… Look. Nevermind. I'll get back to the story.

I was home from the hospital. I'd only been able to leave this couch to pee, (on my own, god damnit!), and the confinement had made me a bit bitchy. Dave had put up with it without a peep. He'd brought me the cocoa I'd asked for when I got home, and while it did have marshmallows, but they weren't pink. I decided to let that slide, because I couldn't really expect him to have pink marshmallows on hand. But later when he got home from the grocery store and admitted he'd forgotten to buy them, I threw a knife at him. Well, near him. Actually, too near him; it nicked his ear on the way past him before solidly sinking into the wall. He didn't gen get pissed. He just calmly asked for the rest of the knives. I felt so ashamed of nicking him that I actually gave him two of the five I'd stashed in the couch cushions. I guess I shouldn't have lost my temper over pink marshmallows, but, fuck it. A girl's got to have standards.

Actually, almost hitting him had scared me. I had just wanted to startle him and make sure he was still taking me seriously. Not accidentally kill him. Sure, I was back to 'being taken care of' but I wasn't going to go back to little girl status if I could help it. Maybe the throw was off because I was sitting on the couch, but it had just felt wrong when it left my hand. That bothered me. I'm better than that.

We had a quiet dinner and after he cleaned up, he asked if I wanted dessert before bed. Holy shit, it was like I was six years old again. I started to get mad, but decided that no, I would deal with this after dessert. I wanted some sugar. And, well, I couldn't exactly run away this time so a screaming match was out of the question. He brought out a couple of chocolate cupcakes he had bought from the bakery. I ate mine then stole the remaining half of his while he was getting me more milk. He didn't get mad. He didn't even tease me. He just sat back down across from me.

As much fun as ordering him around like a child had been, I couldn't keep it up. "Look, I'm sorry." I said.

"What, about taking my cupcake? I pretty much expected it."

"No, Dave. I'm not sorry about the cupcake." He looked a little puzzled, like maybe I should have been sorry about the cupcake. But, I still wasn't so I continued. "Seriously, I'm sorry for about the fight. I'm sorry I ran out the other night and I'm sorry about the knife."

"Don't worry about it," he replied. "We'll get you healed up and my ear is fine."

"If I was myself, I wouldn't have hit you. And I can't be a little girl anymore. I'll get me healed up. It's time for you to stop taking care of me."

"But Mindy, you need me!" he replied. "I mean, your head; the doctor said you needed someone to watch you."

"I know he did, Dave. But I did some thinking while you were out getting food. I messed up." He tried to interrupt me but I just continued over him. "When tore out of here the other night, I was angrier then I'd been in years. And all of it was focused on you. You were treating me like a baby, like a kid sister. Then when you came after me, in costume, I was so happy because you'd been a pussy and caved. You knew you were wrong; I had won. And it felt great. So fucking great that I wasn't paying attention to the world around me and you had to save my ass. And not from some mobster who knew way too much about kung fu like the first time, but from some punk ass bitch that I could have taken out when I was eight. When I came back to twon, I know that I just crawled in the window and started falling asleep on your lap. That's my fault. After Marcus abandoned me, I guess I wanted to be that little girl again. I wanted a new daddy. So, I basically asked you to be one. And you gave me what I asked for."

"I don't think of myself as your dad. That's nuts." Dave interrupted, "You just needed some help from your Robin again." He tried to get me to smile at him but it didn't work. "I mean, we're like family." The word 'family' trigged an emotional reaction in me that I wasn't expecting. Cold, mind numbing fear. Not butterflies like that bullshit failed date had caused. Pure terror. I couldn't have any more family.

I started to panic. I wasn't going back to being dependant. I started talking and the words were coming out faster than I could think of them. "Dave, I don't need a daddy anymore and I don't need a Robin. We're not family! We're not anything! Tomorrow I'm moving into the safe house." While Dave had pretty much humored me for most of what I said, these comments appeared to have cut deep. But it was working, so I pushed on. Dave tried to interrupt me but I wouldn't let him . "We're not family, get it? I can take care of myself!" I replied. A little voice in the back of my head questioned why I was doing this when I didn't want to be alone again, but I told it to fuck off. "And this time, we're not going to scream about it like a couple of bitches in heat. OK?"

"Fine" he sighed. I didn't get the weak smile I prayed for. He couldn't even meet my eyes. And fuck, I felt like I'd just beaten an old dog to death. This wasn't what I wanted. I mean, I didn't know what I wanted, but this definitely wasn't it. Not to cut us apart; Just to get my own space. I wanted him to visit me, train with me, and be with me. I just couldn't do that under his roof. I tried again. "Dave? I'll still need some help getting moved and stuff. And, you can visit and…" I stopped talking when he stood up and walked out of the room. "Whatever" his voice echoed back to me from the end of the hallway." But it had been a heartbroken 'whatever', which basically translated to 'fuck off'.

I could move around pretty good the next day although I kept having slight dizzy spells and I was klutzy as hell. I wasn't going to let that stop me. By the time I had packed my personal things, Dave had loaded up his car with the rest. We drove in silence; I did notice that even in our non-communicative state that he knew to drive around enough to make sure we weren't being followed before we got to the safe house. We got there and began hauling boxes upstairs. When I thought we had everything inside, Dave claimed that there was one more thing in the car and said that he would go get it. After about ten minutes, I went to the door to see what was taking so long. The last box was just sitting in the hallway. Dave was gone. I pulled it inside and sat down on it. Marcus had left. Now Dave had left. Hoping that something had just prevented him from coming back up, that maybe he was abducted or something, I tried his cell. It picked up but he didn't say anything. "Dave?" I said. Just a sigh, but I knew it was his sigh. I didn't yell. I didn't curse. "Why didn't you bring in the last box?" I asked, feeling very alone. "You made your choice." he said. And then he hung up. I cried until I fell asleep.

I'd fucked everything up, but maybe I was better this way. I was alone again, but at least I wasn't in some skeezy motel. Over the next couple of days I buried my pain in trying to get my edge back. Because something was really wrong with me. It was like being a sniper when someone had fucked with your sights. Knives and stars missed the entire target half the time. I'd fall over if I got too exotic on my sword or staff work. And guns… I could barely pick up a gun without thinking of the accident and everything it had caused. Even with a silencer, the bang made me close my eyes. Not good for working in the rather small shooting range Daddy had rigged in the safe house. So I decided that if I couldn't hit something with a knife, I had no business trying to hit it with a bullet anyway and put away the guns. It made a good excuse.

I tried to call Dave a few more times but he wasn't answering and I couldn't make myself leave a message. Because I didn't know what he was feeling or what I was feeling, and I just wanted to talk, so how the hell could I put that in a message? And the douche bag hadn't even personalized his voicemail message so I couldn't just call to hear his voice. Fine. Another person had abandoned me. Fuck him. Fuck 'em all.

I moped, watched TV, and bought a lot of shit on my iPad. I wanted to feel something other than loneliness so much I didn't know what to do. I was so damn lonely that I started watching those fucking Union J videos on repeat. That was… kind of fun. Surprisingly fun. One night, I even tried drinking. Daddy had left a few bottles of scotch in a cabinet and I figured, what the fuck, it's not like I'm driving. I actually fell asleep that night without any trouble and slept without any dreams. The next night, I tried it again. But I didn't feel sleepy right away and started watching those videos again. And I realized something. They turned me on. I mean, more than just little butterflies. I was drunk enough that it even led me to playing with myself for the first time. It felt amazing. I finally understood why guys liked to whack off. I finally drifted off and in the morning, I woke up with a hell of a hangover. OK. This was a shitty idea. I poured the rest of the scotch down the drain and promised myself I'd never drink like that again. But even without the alcohol to lower my inhibitions, damned if I didn't end up experimenting with myself a bit more when I went to bed. It was just about the only think in my life that felt good and I had finally accepted the fact that I was alone and I could do whatever I wanted. So far, it was the only good part of being alone that I had found, so I kind of focused on it.

At first my fantasies were just typical girly shit. It was biology, just like the three bitches had said, Channing Tatum and Union J. Not Twilight though, they were a bunch of pussies. Fucking sparkly vampires, and the main guy wanted to actually eat that Bella chick? Yuck. But, yeah, I decided that it was indeed biology. I mean, I wasn't turned on by girls, so it was definitely guys. At first the fantasies stayed pretty much on track, but then I thought of Dave. Dave doing pull-ups. Dave without a shirt. Dave's perfect ass that I'd glimpsed in the bathroom mirror one morning when I hadn't realized he was still getting ready. Flustered. I shoved him out of my mind and spent the rest of the evening throwing knives at Dave's picture. I was getting a little better at throwing, but I still sucked. And I didn't have a clue as to why.

The next time my fantasies turned to Dave, I gave in. Holy shit! It made things feel so much better. In fact, I even think I had an orgasm. I mean, I kept rubbing and kept thinking about him in the shower, about him kissing me, about how it felt when he was supporting my by my ass as he tried to unlock the door… And suddenly I started thrashing around out of control, every muscle clamped up as I felt waves of delight flow through me. I even got so caught up with it that I managed to fall off of the couch. If it wasn't an orgasm, then it was a seizure, but it was the best seizure anyone had ever had.

Not surprisingly, my phone picked that moment to ring. I froze for a moment like I'd been caught, then realized how silly that was and grabbed the phone. I didn't even look at the number; the only person who had this number who would call would be Dave.

"Dave?" I said, trying to control my breathing.

"Umm, no." Marcus' voice came through the phone. I almost dropped it. "Hi Min..I mean Hit… Umm, just hi." He said.

"What the FUCK?" I screamed into the phone. Then I thought about it for a minute and almost laughed. He was across the country and he still caught me masturbating. How the hell did he do that? The absurdity gave me the chance to calm down a bit. Marcus didn't respond. So I said evenly "I got your note."

"Look, umm, well…" He sputtered out.

"Have you changed your mind? Because I think that you were pretty fucking clear." I said, my anger coming back a bit.

"Not exactly." He replied.

Somehow his tone managed to catch my attention. I decided I wanted to hear the son of a bitch explain how he justified abandoning me. I also realized that if I stopped swearing, he might manage to talk. "Not exactly? What in the fu.. hell does that mean?"

"Look, just listen, please. I called for two reasons. The first is to explain myself. You deserve that."

"I'm listening" I managed to choke out past my shock.

"You made your choice. You're Hit Girl, and I can't change that. I'm not even sure it was a choice. I mean, you never stopped being her; you just suppressed that part of yourself for me. But you're a vigilante and I'm a cop. Do you understand what that means?" After a pause for me to speak, during which I just sat there dumbfounded, he went on. "If I stayed anywhere around you, I'd either be forced to track you down or they'd use me to find you. I can't accept what you do as being right, but I don't want to send you to prison either. This is the only time I'm ever going to call you, and when I'm done, I'm dropping this phone in the river. I expect you'll do the same with yours. That way we can't be tempted."

"OK" I said, with more calm than I felt. "I can accept your reasons. But that note still sucked."

"You deserved better, but I was unbelievably angry at the time. I have no idea how long you're going to live in this lifestyle you've chosen, but I don't want to be the reason it ends. I don't want to be the one who kills you. I just want to keep remembering holding you when you were little and how you looked when you came down the stairs ready for that first date." I could actually hear how much this hurt him. "That's easier then knowing you're in danger. Or dead."

"I understand. Or, I think I will someday. Thank you. You said there was a second reason?"

"Look, I was planning to do this on the actual day, but since I'll be stuck in a stakeout all of next week, I didn't want to risk missing it. Happy early birthday sweetie." He was obviously holding back tears now. "Your sweet sixteen birthday. I'd really been looking forward to it."

"Marcus…" I couldn't say anymore.

"I love you Hit G– No. I love you Mindy. Regardless of your choice you'll always be Mindy to me." His words healed. They filled a hole that I hadn't realized had been empty. He'd left because he had to. And I understood that.

He started to wrap up. "Happy Birthday, honey. Stay safe. Take care of yourself, and that boy. He's a keeper."

He's a what? "Wait, Marcus…."

"Goodbye Mindy. I love you." I heard the click as the call ended. I tried to call the number back immediately but it went straight to a generic voicemail message. His phone was either off or in the river.

I didn't cry this time. I'd wanted the chance to tell him I loved him too but I'm pretty sure he already knew. And I'd also wanted to ask him what I should do about Dave. But that was my problem to solve, not his. It was time to start solving shit instead of just being a victim. I grabbed a piece of paper and started two columns. 'What I want' and 'What I don't want'. Proud of my accomplishment, I spent the next half hour staring at the otherwise blank sheet of paper.

I eventually decided it was easier to start with what I didn't want.

Hmm. I started to write.

_I don't want to be treated like a child. _

_I don't want someone to control me. _

_I don't want to get abandoned again. _

_I don't want to be alone. _

_I don't want to live like this anymore._

Then, I moved onto the other list.

_I want someone to help me when I need help, and kick my ass when I need to do something myself. _

_I want a partner. An equal. A friend. Maybe even a boyfriend._

_I want Dave._

I took a moment, pulled my head out of my ass, and started to think. Despite Marcus' harsh words in the letter, he had left because it was the only real option. That was a little different than being abandoned. And, well, Dave didn't abandon me. I left him. Sure, I told him he could visit, but not before making it clear I had no place for him in my life. And just like when I'd first moved in with him, he'd given me exactly what I asked for. First he took care of me. And then when I wanted to leave, he let me. Fucking hell Dave, you've got to stop being such a fucking carpet! I can't be expected to both know what I want AND what I need! I was only fifteen!

I was going to be sixteen in two days. My list was done. I knew what I wanted and needed. Dave, as a partner or a friend. Maybe as more, that was kind of up to him. But I didn't have to figure out that part right now. What I did need to do was start Operation Fixit!

The next morning, the first thing I did was to locate a decent beauty parlor. I told them that money was no object and that I was entirely in their hands. They stripped the cheap dye out of my hair and got it back to its original golden glow. This was really important because by this point, my blond roots had grown out about a half inch to each side. It looked terrible; in fact, I looked a lot like a peed on skunk. They asked about color so I had them put in a few purple streaks. That made me feel sexy and somehow grown up. Then they sent me to the waxers. Holy fucking shit that hurt. They finished on my legs, and then delicately suggested that they could go farther. I resisted smacking them for even suggesting that. I mean, my legs hurt, but having hair pulled from there? How could any woman stand that? And it made you look like a damn baby. How was that supposed to be sexy? I recovered from the leg pain while getting a manicure and pedicure. Might as well go as girly as possible.

Then I had to find a dress. Well, not **a** dress, **the** dress. That took seven stores before I found one that was still me, but sexy enough to knock Dave into next week. Plenty of cleavage to make him drool, but my tits were still covered. I was going to look like a woman in this, not like a hooker. I bought a push up bra to help the cleavage situation. I mean, I had some curves but I certainly didn't match up the kind of huge boobs they draw in comic books. I was just going to get a plain one, but the sales lady aid it was a crime to wear cotton under a dress like that. She suggested a sexy bra and panty combo with a lot of lace and not a lot of cloth. When I looked at her in shock, she said that even if I didn't let the young man in question see the undies, I'd feel sexier and more confidant with them on. Who was I to argue? Especially since they had in purple. Two pairs of shoes, one heels, one flat so I had options and I was done there.

I swung through the party store and bought some decorations. Everything that said Sweet Sixteen went in my basket. Purple and pink streamers went in too. I bought the works. Then I ordered a cake and went home. I decorated the whole place. I even put bows on the guns. Then, that evening, I called Dave. He didn't answer, but I left him a message this time. I apologized for what I had said, and reminded him of his promise from the beginning of the year. He said 'he would do anything' I reminded him. I asked him if he was enough of a man to hold to his word. Finally, I told him to come to the safe house tomorrow night. OK, actually, this took about 7 messages. It took a while for me to explain it all. I can't believe he just sat there and let it ring.

I woke up bright and early the next morning and decided that even though I was only one day older then yesterday, I did indeed feel different. Maybe I'd just bought into the hype, or maybe it was because the safe house looked like the party store had exploded in it. I left a note on the door when I had to run out to get the cake and dinner fixings just in case Dave arrived early telling him to please wait for me to get back. Then, I got dressed. The sales lady was right. Putting on that underwear did make me feel like a woman. I made a note to buy some more. I liked how I looked in the heels, but I had another dizzy spell and decided that even though the heels made my ass look great, it would stop looking great if I fell on it. Bruises aren't that sexy. So, I put on the flats instead. I got the dinner prepped so I could just pull things out with a minimum of fuss. And then I sat down to wait.

After about an hour, I wasn't sitting, I was pacing. Two hours later I was trying to decide if I'd rip my dress if I started throwing knives. After the next hour, I was starting to realize that I had been a complete idiot to put this together. But on the plus side, I could actually throw knives in my dress safely. The next thirty minutes proved my knife throwing was getting a little better as I slaughtered every balloon in the room. Finally, I gave up all of my dignity and begged. I grabbed my phone and texted Dave. "Please don't make me spend my 16th birthday alone." I hit send and a moment later, I heard a text alert go off in the hallway. Confused, I opened the door and there was Dave, sitting on the floor, staring at his phone.


	5. Chapter 5

No One Takes Down Hit Girl But Hit Girl

_Inspired by Makokam. Sorry about the cliffhanger last time. As I said, I had to break it off somewhere. I actually just kept writing, but since I was at 4000 words exactly, I decided to post. As we all seem to beg, Reviews please! _

I stared at Dave, who was staring at his phone. After a moment he looked up. "Happy Birthday?" He said tentatively.

"What in the fuck are you doing on the floor?!" I asked. He pointed at the sign that was still hanging on the door. It said for him to wait for me, and I'd put it up when I had run a few errands earlier in the day. Unfortunately, I hadn't taken it down. "SHIT!" I grabbed it and crumpled it into a ball. "That was in case you were early!" He smiled at me and then tried to peer around me into the room. "Close your eyes!" I said quickly. He did. "Look, I'm just going to shut the door and you can knock on it in a minute – OK?"

"With my eyes open?" he asked?

"Yes with your eyes open, dumbass." I said. He started to chuckle. "Shut up! I worked hard on this!" Another chuckle erupted from him. "Just wait until I get inside, OK?" I didn't wait for a nod and darted back inside and shut the door. Actual laughter came from the hallway now. "I said shut up!" I shouted through the door, but I was trying not to laugh too. I looked around the room. Everything was perfect. Well, everything except for the dead balloons and the phenomenal number of holes in the sheet rock that I'd need to spackle over later. He knocked on the door and after smoothing down my dress and trying to dry my suddenly clammy palms at the same time, I answered the door.

"Happy Birthday!" we both shouted together. Then we lost it completely. He managed to make it inside and get the door closed. Then we both laughed until our sides ached.

"OK, so that didn't go exactly as planned." I said, wiping my eyes. "Welcome to my surprise Sweet 16 party."

"How do you throw yourself a surprise party?" He asked.

"I don't know. Pretty badly, obviously." I remarked, finally catching my breath. "How long were you waiting out there?"

"About an hour and a half." He replied, sitting down at the table. "You reminded me of my promise, and questioned my manhood. There was no way I was leaving. There were some popping noises a while ago, and I tried knocking, but I guess you didn't hear me. So is it really your birthday or is this just you fucking with me?"

"It's really my birthday. And I swear, the balloons were asking for it. Look, I was a bitch, OK? I said some really hurtful things and basically I abandoned you the way that Marcus abandoned me. "

"Min, you don't have to" Dave tried to say, but I stopped him.

"Dave, I do. And I've had a shitty few months, so please hear me out all the way before you make any judgments. I'm going to say some of this shit wrong and I need the chance to fix it when you're a dumbass and don't understand me." He smiled at that. "Please listen to the end; I don't want us to get pissed off at each other again. You're not my Daddy or Marcus. And that's not an insult to you, it's just true. It's my fault that I put you in that position, but it isn't who I want you to be. Is that OK?"

"Yeah, sure"he said. I could see some of the pain from our last conversation taking over the joy that the 'surprise' had created.

I went on. "Now, I also don't want to be alone. I want you around but I don't want you to be my Robin, or me be your Robin, OK?"

"I'm not sure I understand. You don't want us to go out on patrol? You don't want us to be partners?" He said, and I knew he was trying hard not to say the wrong thing.

"Actually, you've kind of got that backwards. "

He interrupted me. "But Batman and Robin were partners!"

"No," I replied, "Batman was in charge and Robin was his little bitch. I don't want that. I want to be actual partners. And friends."

"That's all I've ever wanted." Dave said, starting to smile a bit.

"You're not supposed to be interrupting! Look, if you're full of shit, I get to tell you. And if I'm full of shit, you get to tell me. Fair?" He didn't respond. "Shit! OK – you can talk."

"Yeah, that sounds good." He smiled more

"Don't forget I can still kick the shit out of you if you piss me off though." I said, not wanting to go too far.

"I'd expected that. What else?"

"Well, you're not family. But, well, you've heard that dipshit saying that friends are the family you choose? Well, I guess maybe its not so dipshit. It's just that for me, family is the wrong word. But that doesn't mean I don't care about you a lot."

"Yeah, I can see the difference. Your experience with family has been a little fucked up."

"Ya think?" I sarcastically shot back. "So, any questions?"

"We're equal, we're friends, but you reserve the right to kick my ass. Oh, and today is your sixteenth birthday. That about sum it up?"

"Yes, that's it." I said, hoping he wasn't going to have a problem with it.

"Well, then, Happy Birthday and let's party!"

I pulled out the food and he helped me get everything set up. Then we ate, caught back up on what was going on in our live and put on some music. My iPad was on random, and when the first slow song started, he asked me to dance. I froze. I hadn't I even considered this option. Thank God I hadn't worn the heels. I tried to refuse, but he just pulled me to my feet. Then he swung me over to the practice mats to dance. It was the only open space. As we danced, I even caught him checking out my cleavage. It gave me that butterfly feeling.

"I haven't said it yet because everything tonight kind of happened out of order. You look beautiful. "I blushed and pushed my face into his shoulder.

"You don't have to say that, you know." I muttered into the fabric.

"Yes I do. I'm a hero, and I have to tell the truth. You're beautiful tonight and every night." With that, he spun me around and the heady sensation reminded me of how I'd felt when I was just a little bit drunk. As soon as I could, I hid back in his shoulder again. We continued to dance and he moved us next to the iPad. The song ended and he reached out a hand to hit fast forward until another slow song started. Then we were dancing again. "Sweet Sixteen." He whispered. "Sweet Sixteen and never been…" He looked down at my eyes to see if I would fill in the blank.

"Never been anything." I said softly.

"You've been kissed. Hell, at least once. I mean, you said that it was your first kiss when you left town." He said, confused.

"Dave, I kissed you. No one has ever kissed me." I tried not to put hope or sadness in my voice. I think I managed both.

"Then someone should. Or, rather, I should." And with that, he gently lifted my chin and kissed me.


	6. Chapter 6

No One Takes Down Hit Girl But Hit Girl

_Inspired by Makokam. As we all seem to beg, Reviews please! _

He kissed me! He kissed me! He kissed me! I just chanted in my mind at first. The kiss deepened and his tongue tickled my lips. I think my heart rate doubled. I pushed myself against him and opened my lips up to his probing tongue. It felt amazing. I could feel my nipples crinkle up as the kiss continued and the rest of me was feeling flush. His hands flowed up and down me, eventually grabbing my ass and pulling it toward him, hard. He broke off the kiss then and pulled me into his chest. The intimacy of that touch felt amazing. I felt like I was his, but not in the bad way that being taken care of had been. And he was mine. The music tried to change to something peppy again and he broke away from me to turn it off. Then he guided me to the couch and we sat down together. When he didn't immediately start kissing me again, I pushed back a little so I could see him better.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have done that. "He said. Huh? Some parts of me were singing with joy and the rest were wandering around in a witless confusion.

"Why not?" I asked, scared. "I wanted it and I liked it. We could do it some more if you want?"

"I do, but, we should talk some first," Dave said. More confusion poured through my mind. More kissing was good, but if every movie I'd seen was any indication, talking at this point was bad. "I don't want to take advantage of you."

I immediately felt better. If that was all that worried him, we were fine. "Look Dave, it's impossible for you to take advantage of me. Even in this dress, I could kill you with your own finger. Nothing will happen that I don't want to happen." I blushed. "And, I, umm, want things to happen." With that, I reached behind my back and started to pull the zipper on my dress down while I moved forward to kiss him again.

"Whoa, wait, what do you think you're doing?" Dave pulled himself to the end of the couch farthest from me. I stopped pulling, but the dress had already slipped down enough that my bra was completely uncovered. Like I said when I bought it, it had lots of lace and not much fabric. I felt more exposed than if I had actually been topless. But, I was also stung by his reaction, and almost pulled my dress back up. But instead, pride forced me to let if fall farther, exposing part of my stomach.

"I'm not a little kid anymore, Dave. The evidence is right here." I gestured at my chest. "Come touch if you don't believe your eyes."

"Mindy, please put your dress back on," he gasped.

Tears misted my eyes but I held them back. Defiantly I left the dress where it was. "What's wrong Dave? They're just tits. Am I not enough for you? Is it because I'm not some perfect girl next door like Katie or some slutbag like Night Bitch?"

"I don't want you to be like them, Mindy. I want you to be yourself!" He was practically shouting.

"I pointed at my body again. This is me Dave. I don't know what you still see me as, but this is it. I'm not a kid. I'm sixteen now. And I want you. Please make love to me…" The vulnerability in my last statement made my voice quiver. It was also starting to disgust me that I was begging him. "I got my hair done, a sexy dress and $100 underwear. Manicured, pedicured, and waxed. Even makeup, for fuck's sake!" I had a sudden thought about what the problem could be "Oh, and I'm on the pill to control my cycle and I have condoms too, if that's what is worrying you." Apparently that wasn't it. He still didn't look at me the way I wanted him too. I looked down and noticed my feet. The boring flats I'd worn stared back at me. "I have heels that go with this outfit too? Would that fucking help?" I said, exasperated.

"No, Mindy, it wouldn't." He gasped out.

"Then what does it take? I'm not begging anymore than I already have. If I don't turn you on, fine. If you don't want to fuck me, say it! Just spit it out and I'll leave you alone. But otherwise that kiss was amazing and I want more!"

"Mindy, please shut up," he barked at me. I stared in surprise. "Look, I'm trying to figure out how to say this without hurting you."

"Dave, you've already hurt me. Fine. You don't want to fuck me. Message received. Just say what you need to say so I can throw your ass out of here and go find some ice cream!" I started to clutch the dress back up to my chest.

"Hey, we made an agreement a little while ago to call each other on their bullshit. Well, I'm calling you on yours! Now shut up and listen." I was so shocked that he was using that conversation against me this quickly that I just nodded for him to continue. "No interrupting. This will take all night if you interrupt. First of all, you look absolutely amazingly sexy in that dress, and in that bra, and my dick is hard enough to chisel marble right now."

"What?" I said. I was prepared for a 'we're just friends' speech, but I didn't think those speeches usually involved boners.

"Please let me talk." Dave continued. "I also agree that the kiss was amazing and that I want to kiss you some more. Hell, a lot more!" I tried to speak again, but the fierce look from Dave shut me down before I could get out the first word. He wanted to kiss me again? But that's what I'd tried to do and he'd stopped me. He seemed to be following my thought patterns. "If you let me, I will kiss you again. We just need to talk about what we're doing. Before something goes too far and it all explodes. You just turned sixteen today" I nodded. "And that was your first time being kissed." I nodded again. I was starting to feel like a bobblehead. "And you thought that after kissing, we'd just jump straight to sex." More bobblehead. "Well, I don't want to do that."

I couldn't stay silent any longer. "But that's what you did with Katie and Night Bitch!"

"Yeah, and do you see either of them around any longer?" He pressed.

"Well, no. I guess not. Look, cut to the chase. What the fuck is your point?" I yelled.

"The point is that I didn't fucking love them!" He shouted back.

Neither one of us moved or made noise for a full five minutes. Seriously, the microwave clock was across the room from me and the minute section incremented five fucking times.

Finally, he broke the silence. "I didn't plan to scream it at you, but yes, I love you. And not just as a friend. And I desire you. Oh my god do I desire you! So much that it hurts right now." He shifted a bit and I think it was because his cock was wedged the wrong way in his jeans.

I still didn't move. He loved me? Holy Shit. I hadn't thought that I could get more confused, but I was mistaken. "Dave? I've given up guessing. I don't have the slightest clue what you're trying to say."

He smiled at that, and I relaxed a bit. "Mindy, you've barely been kissed and I've done, well, a lot. I don't want to skip right to sex with you. I want to spend time developing a relationship with you. I want to enjoy crossing every wonderful thing we can do together off the list before we get to sex. And then I want to go back and repeat them. Because you're worth it and you deserve it. And I want those experiences too, because I skipped past most of them the first few times. I want to spend this entire evening making out with you and I want to go home aching for more. Because just like after a good workout, that ache hurts so good."

"But Dave, I want you! I mean, like, inside me!" I wailed.

"And you'll get me, eventually. Think about it as delicious torture." He teased.

I sat and thought about it. I thought about it a lot. And I liked it. I reached behind me and zipped back up. He groaned. I looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"That was an amazing view to give up." Dave admitted. I bent forward so he could at least look down my dress. He looked. "Come here" he said. I crawled across the couch, gave him a brief kiss, then sat down on his lap and wrapped his arms around me. I put one of his hands very close to my boob. "Naughty girl," he cooed into my ear and teased the bottom of my breast. Just the bottom, he didn't move his hand up to cover me. I melted into his arms anyway and noticed something solid and insistent prodding me from below. In fact, that hard on poking into my butt convinced me better than his entire argument had that he really was turned on by me. I think my entire body smiled.

"If you liked the bra, you'll love the panties." I whispered.

"I'm sure I will. But not yet." He nuzzled into my neck, covering it with little kisses. "So what was that you said before? You got waxed?" he asked.

"Oh yes," I said and put his other hand on my thigh. "Feel soft?" He drew slow soft circles with his fingertips that drove me wild.

"How far?" he asked.

"Why don't you find out?" I teased. He groaned again and I decided to be merciful. "Just my legs. As for the rest… First, Ow. Second, well, I wanted to turn you on, but I didn't want to look like a baby down there."

He squeezed me and little Dave gave a tiny pulse as well. "No arguments from me. I think that hairless thing is insane." He released his hold enough on me so I could turn around. I looked into his eyes, and then closed mine as we began to kiss slowly and gently. One of his hands started to slide down my back.

"Not too fast, mister." I smiled into his lips. "We've got all the time in the world." Then… after a few more minutes…. "Well, we don't have to be glacial about this..." I reached back and slid his hand the rest of the way down to my butt. And we sat there together and kissed the rest of the night away.


	7. Chapter 7

No One Takes Down Hit Girl But Hit Girl

_Thanks for sticking with me._

OK, we didn't kiss all night. I wanted to, but after a couple of hours, we started to get tired. So, we stopped and just snuggled for a bit. Dave caught himself nearly falling asleep one too many times and admitted that it was time for him to go home. I tried to convince him to stay, telling him first we'd just cuddle in my bed. He just looked at me with an amused look that pretty much translated to 'bullshit'. Then I claimed that we'd just cuddle on the coach. More 'bullshit' stare. Finally I said that I'd sleep in my bed and that he would sleep on the couch. Neither one of us believed me and the stare finally won. I knew that I'd climb on top of him if this went any farther. So I let him leave but not without a big goodnight kiss and a promise that we'd meet up tomorrow. He squeezed my ass with that last kiss and I think I purred.

After he left, I aimlessly picked up a bit, then got ready for bed. I was afraid of the loneliness feelings overwhelming me again, but they didn't. I missed him terribly. Now that I'd gotten to kiss him, be held by him, it was an agony to be apart. But I knew that tomorrow he would come back. Dave was going to take me on an actual date. Well, kind of taking me, because I'd be paying. I had plenty of money and he really was just scraping by. I didn't exactly earn that money; I just took it away from bad people who didn't need it anymore. You know, because they were dead. So I didn't care about who was paying for dinner. It was my first date and I was ecstatic.

The date ditch did not fucking count, got it? Good. I don't want to have to explain that again.

I had a severe dizzy spell right before I got into bed. But I just thought about how late it was and everything that had happened and figured it wasn't too surprising. I climbed under my covers and then lay there and reflected. The day after day drudgery of being alone was over. I had my Dave. It let me relax enough for sleep. Well, that and a wee bit of diddling myself.

I woke up the next morning feeling great. I was sixteen and I had a boyfriend! As far as I was concerned, I had just won at life. I danced through my morning workout. Only got dizzy three times, which was good for me lately. Part of me again started to think that maybe I should be worrying about that continued dizziness, but the rest just shouted 'BOYFRIEND' and drowned out the worried part.

I called a cab and went to the mall. Yes, a cab. In fact, if you were wondering how in the fuck I got the decorations and cake and shit home for the party, I kept taking cabs. There was no way to do that sort of thing on a bike. I may have to invest in a car. Cabs were getting expensive though. Maybe I just needed to make Dave drive me around more.

I went out to the mall and went absolutely fucking nuts buying myself a new wardrobe. Regular clothes, not workout stuff. Although I did spend a while seeing if anyone had those transparent yoga pants still in stock. Those might be fun to wear when I worked out with Dave. No one did, apparently they'd been recalled. Shit. I also got lots of frilly stuff, especially in the underwear section. I went to a register with a male cashier just for the fuck of it, and just stared coyly into his eyes while little sixteen year old me bought a big pile of naughty under things. The nearly transparent thongs got the best reaction, especially since I decided to dig though them to 'verify' they were all the right size. I even held one up to my hips like I was trying to decide how it would fit. He looked like he was trying to swallow a fish.

I didn't just buy that stuff for Dave to see me in, although it was the inspiration. I bought them for me. Daddy had dressed me pretty plain when I was little. Neither of us thought any of that mattered because the costume was where I got to feel special. Then for Marcus, I had dressed like the goody two shoes choir girl priss. That was what had made Marcus happy. I mean, I wore a sweater buttoned at my throat on my first date for fuck's sake.

It was a trick! Not a real fucking date! Got it? We're not going to make that decision again, are we!? No!? Good.

I bought things I liked. Yes, I did have a girly streak. Why else was my hero costume purple and pink with a skirt? But I hadn't really thought about being 'pretty' until the whole Brook fiasco. That did help me figure out that I liked looking good. I couldn't wear sweats and jumpers for the rest of my life. Even if these clothes were just another costume, it was a matter of pride to me that my costumes always looked good. More makeup and shoes completed the trip.

I got the stuff outside and called a cab. While I waited, I texted Dave shots inside some of the bags. Not so much that he could recognize specific items, but enough to torture him knowing I owned such things. I didn't want to ruin the actual 'reveals.' He texted back things like 'drool' and 'groan' so I figured it was working. I got home, made some lunch, and went through my purchases like a kid on Christmas morning. I happily spent the afternoon trying on outfits, removing the six thousand tags, and trying on the underwear that I couldn't at the store. I decided the jury was still out on the thongs. Sure, I looked good in them. And the whole no panty line thing was cool. But they still felt like I had a perma-wedgie. I decided that I'd wear them for the next few days and see if I could get used to the feeling. Finally, it was getting on toward five so I got dressed for my first date.

Shut up.

Dave arrived promptly at six, dressed nicely, with flowers and a wrapped box. He was appropriately appreciative of my outfit, which was to say that he couldn't speak for about thirty seconds. This was getting fun! "Hi Dave!" I said. "Pussy got your tongue?" He glanced below my waist and then back up to my eyes.

"Umm, the phrase is 'Cat got your tongue.'" He stammered.

"I know what the phrase is." I sparkled back. "What's in the box?"

"A surprise. You'll find out later."

I winked at him. "Maybe later you'll find out what's in another box." He blushed and I decided to egg things on a bit more. "Shall we go or do you want to come inside and unwrap me?"

"I hope you're not too upset if I said we should go?" He said carefully.

"I'm just fucking with you, Dave. Hmm, maybe I need to change that phrase. But 'just not fucking with you' doesn't have the same zing. Oh well. I'll put the flowers in some water and then we can go. I'm starving."

He grinned at the rescue and soon we were walking out of the building, hand in hand. That felt really nice. Even nicer when I stumbled over a rock that I'm not actually sure was there. But he caught me. We got into his car and headed over to a nice Italian place he remembered his dad talking about. We ordered dinner and tried to order wine, but we got carded. Dave of course was only 19 and while I was 16, I'd had 18 put on my fake ID. Both because people tend to look at 21 year old ID's carefully for fakes and because I knew I couldn't pull it off. The waiter was a nice guy about it and just teased us and then brought us non-alcoholic daiquiris. After he left, Dave decided to tease me by taking a sip and saying what a delicious virgin it was. I was drinking at that moment and almost spit strawberries at him.

We ate and talked. It was wonderful because he was one the only people who accepted me as Hit Girl. Sure, he referred to me as Mindy, because, hey, it's kind of weird to say 'Hit Girl, can you pass the pepper', especially in public. But our topics of conversation established that he had no problem with who I was. He asked me to explain the whole killing someone with their own finger thing, and I did, gesturing with my fork. Then he asked me about how I had enjoyed my shopping and proceeded to compliment me so much that I had to giggle. I didn't have to hide anything with him, and I hadn't truly enjoyed that experience since Daddy died.

We went over the rest of what was going on, both in the city and for Dave personally. The city had stayed pretty calm after the last battle. Most of the rambunctious criminals had signed on with the Motherfucker and either gotten killed, mangled, or arrested. Crime was at an all time low, but we both agreed that once those who survived healed or got out on parole, the problems would come back. Not to mention all the little crooks who would eventually realize that there was a void to fill and decide to step up their activities. Dave only had a few months left until he graduated. We talked about school for me, and while I couldn't ever go back to high school, I could at least get my GED. Under what name I wasn't sure, but it was more to prove to myself that I wasn't some idiot. We also went over a training schedule to get ourselves back in tip top shape. We could be prepared at least.

Over dessert, I gave in and asked about the box again. He smiled and said he was amazed at my self control but that we should wait a little bit longer to before I opened the gift. I kicked him under the table and he then acknowledged that I'd waited long enough. As I'd been hoping, it was a birthday present for me. He told me "I'd have had something for you yesterday, but you didn't tell me it was your birthday until a few moments before you opened the door. You've got to give a guy some time to shop." I agreed, and while I was at it, got him to tell me when his birthday was too. It was July 12th. I punched it into my phone so I wouldn't forget. I slit the paper open with a small knife I took out of my purse.

Oh – you didn't think I'd gone out unarmed, did you? That would have been insane. Throwing knives were in my purse and a larger fighting knife was strapped on the inside of my thigh where I hoped it wouldn't show. The dress was a little short, but the sheath was black, my hose was black, and I'd smack anyone who seemed to be staring up my dress. It worked.

After the obligatory 'I couldn't afford much' speech from Dave and the 'I know that dumbass, I'm paying for dinner – and I don't mind' speech from me, I opened the box. Nestled in some cotton batting was a clock. An old, beat up wooden clock. What the fuck? I mean, I knew he was broke but seriously? I looked up at him and tried to look happy. I really tried but it didn't work. "Umm, Dave… Thanks. Look, if you're that short on money, I could…."

He laughed and didn't seem upset though. "Actually, it wasn't cheap. It's an antique. And it's just like one of the clocks on the set of the old Batman show. I saw it in a shop a while ago. I figured since your Daddy couldn't be here, something that would remind you of him was in order." he said. Daddy had watched that show religiously, and now that Dave had mentioned there being a clock, I recognized it immediately.

"Oh my god, thank you! I just didn't realize…" It wasn't just a gift; it acknowledged all that I was.

"Check out the engraving." He said. I moved the batting around a bit and sure enough, there was a brass plate at the base. It said 'Time is the most precious thing in the world. You'll always be worth every moment I get to spend with you'. I squealed, jumped up, and wrapped my arms around him. I even had the beginnings of tears running down my face. Half the restaurant noticed at that point and thought he proposed. Two tables tried to buy us champagne. The owner tried to explain that we weren't old enough and he couldn't afford to lose his liquor license and we let him off the hook by telling them it was just my birthday. Well, one day past my birthday technically, but that would have been too tough to explain. We thanked them anyway, took care of the check, and walked outside. I held my gift protectively in one arm and Dave possessively in the other.

It was raining, so we rushed to the car and got in as quick as we could. I smiled because I knew no night could be perfect, and the rain had managed to be the one non-perfect thing. We went back to my place, where I carefully put the clock on a shelf where it would be safe. Then, we put on a movie (Enter the Dragon) and while we made out some, we also spent a lot of time holding each other. I had a little bit of a headache, but I ignored it.

When the movie was over, Dave squeezed me and then moved back so he could see me. "So how was that for a proper first date?" He asked.

"Wonderful!" I said. "Although I suppose if it was a conventional first date, I'd have just given you one kiss at the door."

"You know, if I'd gone along with your plan last night, the most we would have managed to do is to order a pizza and then just screw our brains out. Fun maybe, but not so fulfilling." He said.

I gave him my best confused look. "I thought we were doing that too. The pizza will be here in 15 minutes. We'd better get started or the pizza guy will see us fucking!" Then I cracked. "OK, you're right. Taking our time is better. I don't want to go too slow, but, well, thank you for thinking of both of us instead of just thinking with your dick."

He snorted at the last big and then gave me a hug, and caressed my ass a bit, then ran his arms up my sides to my neck, teasing the sides of my breasts just a little bit. "OK – tomorrow's Saturday. You said 7 AM earlier for our workout, but it's already 1 AM. Can we push it back a little bit?"

I was actually tempted to move it a lot. My head was really starting to pound. But no, I'd be fine once I got a bit of sleep. "All right, since you've been so nice to me. But you'll have to do an extra 50 pushups while I get to sit and watch the muscles in your arms. "

"Deal?" he said.

"Deal" I replied. "7:15 it is!"

"I guess I fell for that." He said, chuckling.

"And I guess I fell for you. I didn't say it last night because I figured you already knew. I love you too." I cooed into his ear as I wrapped my arms around him for our final good night kiss."I'm going to run you ragged tomorrow." He left and I crawled into bed. But the pain in my head wouldn't let me sleep. I tossed and turned, tried the regular headache drugs; nothing helped. Eventually, my exhaustion caught up with me, and even though I could barely think, I slept.


	8. Chapter 8

No One Takes Down Hit Girl But Hit Girl

_OK – confession time. I have no idea if there was actually a clock on a shelf in the Batman TV series. I mean, there might be, but I just made it up. I like how several people seem to remember one. Heck, I seem to remember one as well, but I don't know if it really exists. _

_Second confession. I know zip about brain injuries. And since I don't know any doctors I can ask, I will proceed to make stuff up as fits the story. _

_Final confession. I got stuck on this chapter for a bit because I was trying to do too much at once. I had to completely start over. Let me know if you think the pacing turned out all right._

_Enjoy._

Dave came in the next morning to find me working the speed bag. Not that I could quite get the rhythm of it right, but it was still a good workout. That headache had finally gone away and I'd gotten a little bit of proper sleep. I looked at him and smiled. "My morning treat has arrived." I sat down on the mat pointed in front of me. "Drop and give me 50. Oh, and, shirt off."

"50?" Dave said as he pulled off his shirt.

"Yes, 50. I changed my mind. Now!" He dropped and did the required exercise. I just sat there and watched his muscles move. It was a lot of fun. Then he tried to crawl over to kiss me. I whacked him on the head. "Bad puppy! Work now, play later." He pretended to pout and then we climbed back to our feet.

We spent about half an hour stretching. I was still disappointed that I hadn't been able to buy those see through yoga pants but the short shorts and sports bra I was wearing seemed to have enough of an effect on Dave. I got to smack him four more times when he stopped stretching to stare at my ass. Well, actually, each time I gave him a pretty good look before I smacked him. We spent the next two hours on conditioning exercises. Dave kept up with me step for step. I guess he had hadn't gone soft. As soon as that thought went through my head, I glanced at his crotch. He really hadn't gone soft. He was going to need to pick up a jockstrap. Or maybe we'd have to play first and then work out. It couldn't be comfortable. The son of a bitch caught me looking and tried to smack me like I had smacked him. I easily caught his hand and flipped him into a pile of equipment.

Fuck. That wasn't where I'd meant him to land. Why was I still so off? But, he was laughing about it as he got up so I let it go. "Nice Try. That's my trick." I said to cover my discomfort.

"I should have known it wouldn't work" he said ruefully. Then he climbed up and started putting on pads.

We moved on to actual fighting practice and it was just like our workouts at the beginning of the school year. We dropped the sexy stuff and just got serious. The only difference was that now Dave was taking turns with the padded gloves and calling out kicks and punches for me to complete. I completed them all but it shouldn't have been such a struggle. It helped that Dave wasn't calling out as fast as I could actually move. Or, I guess, used to be able to move. He didn't know that and I decided not to point it out because I didn't want to look weak in front of him. We stopped when I put my head between my legs to fight off a dizzy spell. Dave just thought I was tired. As if!

Why did this dizzy shit not tip me off?

I was happy with the workout though. He'd apparently been paying attention to me when we worked out before and had shouted out those commands like a drill instructor. I hadn't had that since Daddy died and I realized that I'd missed it. It's very different following someone else's attack patterns then your own. I peeled off the equipment and tossed him a power bar and a Gatorade. We sat down to catch our breath and recharge.

"I want to go out on patrol. Tonight if you're up to it. I'm feeling rusty and there is nothing like real combat to sharpen you up." I said once I unstuck my teeth from the bar. Dave had bought the peanut butter ones and those were always a bitch to chew.

"Sounds good. We'll have to stick to the alleys and such though. The cops are still pretty pissed from the big fight with The Motherfucker." He said rather matter of fact.

"What, you're not going to refuse or try to talk me out of it or tell me I'm a fucking idiot?" I said, surprised.

"Did you want me to?" he replied.

"Well, no…"

He continued. "You said you wanted me to treat you as a partner for this stuff. So, I am. You are completely recovered from the wound in your head and you're right. It's time to get back out there before the real criminals get going."

I was glad he was agreeing with me, but words 'completely recovered' pricked at the back of my mind. I shoved it back down. I was Hit Girl. I could deal with it.

Yeah, I know. Shut up.

"So, we have now worked. Is it time for play?" He asked.

"I never play." I shot back in my most serious voice. I got a wonderful confused expression on his face. "Just 'not fucking with you, Dave.' " I guess that phrase did work. I sniffed and realized we both smelled like sweat. "We need a shower."

"Did you want to go first, or should I…" Dave started to say.

I interrupted. "Hey, fucktard. I said 'We.' You need to start listening more carefully." I walked away from him toward the bathroom, pulling off my sports bra and tossing it into a corner. "Unless you don't want to join me…." I started to run but somehow he still managed to catch me on the way in. We stripped each other greedily. When I pulled his shorts down, and actually saw him hard, my mouth went dry. I mean, he wasn't huge, just normal I think, but I still wasn't sure how something like that was going to fit inside me. I mean, when the time came. I was kind of glad I wasn't going to find out yet. We got the water going and climbed in. Kissing quickly moved to touching. I got to explore a naked man's body for the first time and Dave explored me as if he'd never touched a girl before. He spent plenty of time soaping certain parts of me though. And I could tell from his eyes that he wasn't just excited because he was touching some girl. It was because he was touching me. That made my insides go all twisty just like my dizzy spells but I didn't actually get dizzy. There were no orgasms; we just enjoyed teasing each other. Plus, we ran out of hot water all at once. After a brief yell from both of us, we rinsed off the remaining soap as fast as we could and jumped out to dry off. They were right; a cold shower does get you out of the mood.

We had lunch and spent the afternoon in weapons practice. I stayed away from anything that might show Dave that I was still shaky. And I still didn't even want to touch a gun. Once it got close to evening, we packed up duffel bags with our stuff. Dave noticed I hadn't grabbed a pistol and I claimed I wasn't in the mood for it tonight. He seemed to accept that. We then headed out to eat a light dinner and patrol. Never patrol on a full stomach, my Daddy had taught me. It makes you sleepy.

We found an out of the way alley to change in. Dave changed first, and was amused when I just stood there and watched him. He had to take off a lot to get into that wetsuit as the idiot had forgotten to wear it under his clothes. Then he gestured at me. I changed too, and showed off a lot more skin then I usually would have. Not only was it a rush to know Dave was looking at me, it was rather exciting feeling the air on my skin. Maybe this summer I'd jump him naked on a rooftop.

We stayed out of sight and looked for scumbags. It wasn't too long before we found a few. We left them where the police would find them after giving them a good beating. We were staying away from killing, which would get the police too riled up. It wasn't really enough to get my blood flowing but I definitely felt better knowing that I was making a difference again. So far, I hadn't had any problems with dizziness or such so I was in a really good mood. I decided that I'd just needed to get back to real work for everything to settle down.

When we were tired of walking, we sat on a rooftop and made out. After that shower, Dave had no problems running his hands all over me, but honestly, with the body armor in place, I didn't feel much of it. After one attempt by him to slip his hand inside my costume, I explained that it was too cold and I wasn't unzipping. He coyly claimed he'd warm me up, so I quickly pulled down the zipper on the back of his suit and placed my freezing hand square on his back. He yelped. As he shivered and tried to reach behind himself to pull the zipper back up, I told him that if he thought he was doing that to my boob, he was a fucking idiot. He quickly agreed that yes, it was too cold. The kissing was still good though and we explored that for a while before realizing it was almost dawn and stumbled back to the safe house.

Both of us were exhausted. The lack of sleep from last night was really catching up with us. I went into the bathroom and changed into one of my sleep shirts and some fuzzy socks. I brushed my teeth and walked out to see Dave gathering his things to leave.

"Where do you think you're going?" I asked.

"Home," he said. "I need sleep."

"Come on, sleep here with me." I said.

"What?" He said. It seemed to be his go to phrase when he was confused.

"I want you to stay with me tonight." I said, now getting stern.

"Look, Mindy. I think I should go home, all right?" he stammered.

"And I think you should stay. " I countered.

He groped for words. "Min, we said we weren't going to do this yet. And even if we were, we're way too tired to enjoy it properly."

"You think I want sex right now?" I said, incredulously. I looked up and down at what I was wearing. "And that this is how I would dress?"

"Well, we'd end up naked pretty quick, so it doesn't really matter what you wear." He replied.

I knocked him over, grabbed him by the collar and dragged him into the bathroom. Before he could do anything, I grabbed a couple of q-tips and shoved them at him.

He struggled up. "What the hell, Mindy?"

"I decided that either your ears must be plugged or you weren't listening to me. If you recall, not listening involves me kicking your ass. I'm too tired right now. So, I gave you the benefit of the doubt and assumed it was an ear problem. Do we agree that your ears were plugged up?" He nodded. "I asked you to SLEEP with me. NOT FUCK ME. Got it?"

"Oh." He said.

I kissed his confused face and left the bathroom to crawl into bed. I heard teeth brushing noises. I'd already bought him his own toothbrush for the safe house; sharing is gross. And then he came out. I indicated he should join me with a lazy wave of my arm. After a minute of standing there stupidly, he shucked off all but his shorts and climbed in next to me. I spooned into him happily and he wrapped his arms around me. Then I shoved my butt against his crotch and put one of his hands on my breast. "Here, you can enjoy this, but don't get carried away. We need sleep." I smiled wearily. There, we weren't going too far or too fast, but I was back in control. He kissed the back of my head. That felt nice. Then he gently touched me, just enough to sooth my temper and not enough to keep me awake. And with that I fell asleep.


	9. Chapter 9

No One Takes Down Hit Girl But Hit Girl

_Anyone who wants sexy time from this couple can check out my other story – Sex Ed. It was supposed to go here, but really just didn't work. So it became a one shot. Edit - OK – a two plus shot. It was too fun to write and I had to go back to it._

_Another note: Whoever decided to put a cover of Bad Reputation on the KA Sound track instead of the original Joan Jett version that was actually used in the film… You annoy me. My apologies to 'The Hit Girls' who did the cover, but really, you were trying to imitate Joan Jett. You should have left your instruments in the cases. _

My night sleeping with Dave was the best one I'd had in a long time. I decided, and then told him, that I wanted to do a lot more of that. He didn't argue. Things were finally the way I wanted them. We were acting like partner, friends, a couple. But I was still in charge. Perfect. Some of that Orwell 'some pigs are more equal' shit.

Yes, I read. Don't let it surprise you so much the next time.

We worked out some during the week. But Dave still had school that he wanted to finish and I had decided I wasn't willing to be behind him in anything so I was studying like crazy for the GED. Dave slept with me most nights as he slowly moved his stuff from his place to mine. There was something nice about having two toothbrushes beside the sink again. Generally, we were both tired enough that other than a bit of kissing, we just fell asleep snuggled together. I loved it but also worried that if things didn't move along at least a little bit, I'd stop being Sexy Mindy and start being Pillow Mindy. Still, it was a nice vacation from craziness, death, hiding, or drama so I figured it was fine for a while.

Friday night, we went out, but not in costume. This was recon. I had decided it would be better to go back to the habits that had kept Daddy and me safe for quite a while. That meant locating the bad guys and then planning a hit, instead of just wandering around waiting for bad shit to happen. It also meant we got to enjoy the evening. We had a nice dinner before we went stalking and got to smooch in dark corners from time to time. While doing so, I realized that some of my problems with Dave had been my own fault. When I acted like a kid, he treated me as one. When I acted like a young woman, he responded like a bee following flowers. Maybe I didn't have to worry about us getting too comfortable.

We were still walking through some pretty bad neighborhoods though. You had to if you wanted to find the real scum. Near the end of the evening, we turned a corner and ran into a girl younger than me dressed, or maybe I should say undressed, like a hooker. She was obviously nervous but pushed herself into coming over to talk to us. There was a lot of fear in her voice when she offered to do one of us for $20 or both for $30. Shit. I glanced at her arms and she didn't have any obvious needle tracks or anything so she must have been new. When we declined, she begged. Fuck. The only thing that put that much fear in a girl was a pimp. I didn't see him anyplace though so I couldn't administer chastisement on the spot. Dave seemed to at least understand a little of what was going on and I saw the pain in his eyes. He pulled out his wallet and just handed all the cash he had to her, explaining she didn't need to do a thing for us. It must have been over $100. I told her to just give it to her pimp and not to try to keep any of it. It should be enough to satisfy him. She didn't seem surprised that I knew the deal. I also slipped fifty into her back pocket and quietly told her about it while I had Dave pretend to 'check her out'. I hoped she'd manage to keep it and get something to eat. We walked away and Dave's eyes were wet. He pulled out his phone and keyed in the address so we'd know where to come back to. I didn't need to write it down. I'd find this spot again.

We got back to the safe house and quietly and deliberately planned the next evening. We were going to extract some vengeance on that bastard pimp. Dave wanted to get the girl out of there and hopefully on a bus back home. I knew that wasn't going to happen. Whatever she'd run away from must have sucked worse than this. Dave held me very tight when we went to sleep that night, and I was reminded that I'd seen a lot more of this shit than he had. We took another walk though the neighborhood during the day on Saturday so we knew where things were, picked our ambush point, and went back to the safe house to rest. Once it started to get dark, we packed up and headed out. Again, I couldn't bring myself to carry a gun. Dave didn't even notice this time, but I justified it to myself by deciding my staff and knives would be more fitting.

We got into place about an hour after sunset, having changed up on a roof. Sure as shit, there she was again. We were even early enough to see when her pimp walked her out to the corner and then faded back into the shadows.

"Kick-ass, you ready?" I whispered over the wireless radios we were using.

He responded immediately. "Ready. I'll get her out of the way and then come in from behind. Just in case you need help." I wouldn't need help, but that was the plan we'd worked out. The scumbag was about to pass under me and I so leapt down from the railing of the fire escape I was hiding in to pin the fucker to the ground.

The cocksucker's phone picked that moment to ring. He turned and instead of me smashing him to the pavement and using him to break my fall, I landed right beside him, hard. My staff hit the ground and spun out of my hands. Fate then decided that things didn't suck enough and hit me with a dizzy spell when I tried to get up. The son of a bitch must have been psychic because when he heard the noise from me hitting the pavement, he just ran like the devil was on his tail. He didn't bother to look back; he just pounded pavement. By the time I was recovered and standing, he'd gotten around a corner. Dave was coming but he was at the wrong end of the alley to help. I pulled a throwing knife and ran after the bastard. He was fast. I mean, I'm quick, but my legs are only so long. This asshole appeared to be trying out for the Olympics. I made it around the next corner ready to throw, but it was too far. He was out of knife range but not out of pistol range, so I dropped the knife and went for my gun.

Even though I'd intentionally left the thing at home, I was still surprised when my hand just found empty air where the pistol would have been. He disappeared around another corner and I my heart knew that we'd never catch him now. Dave walked up to me. The dead look in my eyes was enough to tell him the pimp had gotten away. We walked back to talk to the girl only to find she was gone too. The poor dumb girl hadn't paid attention to Dave when he'd told her to wait. She'd run too. The fickle finger of fate, having fucked, moved on.

We found the knife I'd dropped, grabbed my staff and climbed back up to the roof. "What happened?" Dave asked me as soon as we were clear.

"His phone rang and he turned. I jumped, missed him and then I couldn't catch him." I told him. It was a little true. Dave bought it. I didn't tell Dave the rest. That if I hadn't gotten dizzy, I was good enough to have recovered and caught him before he got two steps. And that even if he'd still gotten past me, a bullet could have caught anyone, Olympic sprinter or not. We stayed until it started to get light out, hoping one of them would return. They didn't. So we packed up and headed home.

On Sunday, Dave couldn't stop talking about how it wasn't my fault and that it could happen to anyone. He truly believed it, which made me feel even worse inside because I knew it was bullshit. I'd had two chances and blown them both. He said we'd still find her and get her out of there. He was really talking to himself. He decided that we would go back out Sunday night, school be damned. I just went through the motions. We got there at dusk and found exactly what I knew we'd find. No one is dumb enough to leave loose ends like her around. She was already dead, wedged between some garbage cans like just another pile of trash. The pain on her face was unfathomable. We just stood there while tears ran down our faces. Dave cried for her. I cried for me because it was my fault and the dead don't need any tears. The only thing we could do was make sure she was found, so that maybe somewhere, the parents of a little lost girl might get some closure. It wasn't much, but it was all that we could do. But I knew the truth. I should have just knifed her when we first met. At least she'd have died without so much pain.


	10. Chapter 10

No One Takes Down Hit Girl But Hit Girl

_Author note: Welcome to darkness. It's a pretty long trip from a cheap pee joke in chapter 1 to where I am now. Please stay with me. I'll do my best to make the payoff worth it. Dedicated to those who are lost and never found._

Like I said, we made sure the girl's body would be found and then we went home. The safe house was home for both of us now. As soon as we got in, Dave indulged in some of my techniques for dealing with frustration and flung stuff around. I went over to the wall, made myself pick up my favorite pistol and, staring at it, slumped to the floor. I just turned it over and over in my lap. Finally Dave got past throwing things and went verbal. "WHY!" He screamed.

"Because the world sucks, Dave. That pretty much sums it up." I said.

"What do you mean?" He asked wandering around aimlessly.

"You don't want to know." I said. He walked over and sat in front of me expectantly. "OK, but you're not going to like it. Generally we fight the mafia, drug dealers, that kind of shit. They're bad, but almost cartoonishly bad. Comic book bad. Real evil doesn't usually make it into comic books."

"I not sure I understand." Dave said.

"Those guys are organized. They're something to hit. Sure they ruin people's lives but we don't see that part. We take five bastards off of the streets and know that things will actually be a little better, at least for a while. That guy… That's a kind of evil you've never seen."

I explained to him how it worked. Young girls and some guys but not as many, streamed into large cities every day, mostly on buses. A few were running to something, like fame or fortune. The dream of a better life. That was in places like Hollywood, Los Angeles, or New York. Most of them were running from something. Maybe from a fight with a parent or boyfriend. Maybe from a stupid mistake they made and thought was the end of the world. Maybe from gossip in a little town. Maybe from family who couldn't handle it if they said they were different or gay or just didn't fit into whatever picture the parents had painted for them. Generally it wasn't as large a problem as they thought it was and a little bit of time would have solved it. Sometimes it wouldn't have. Some were kicked out. Most of them left on their own.

I told Dave how I'd gotten to know kids like this while I was hiding. Some were abused. Some had been raped. But most of them were just normal kids. Shit, there was even one silly girl who had actually left home because she'd gotten a B on a test and couldn't face telling her parents she didn't have that perfect 4.0 anymore. I'd been shocked at that one. There was one thing they all had in common. They were all lonely. All of them desperately needed a friend.

No, I didn't mention this earlier on purpose. It wasn't something I wanted to remember. I had managed to save a few and lose a few while I was wandering from motel to motel. It was probably one of the reasons that I was willing to be a little girl again for a while when I returned to Dave.

Anyway, there they would be. Deep in the shitter and with no idea how to get back out. And then a supposed 'friend' like that son of a bitch who got away would find them and take them in. He gave them food and shelter. He listened to their problems. He got their trust and then slowly cut off any ties they had left to home or anyone else who might support them. He made sure they wouldn't even think about calling home ever again. He might even have pretended to be their boyfriend. He made sure they believed they had nowhere else to go and that he was all they had. Then came the complaints about how expensive it was to support them. He'd guilt them into little things at first. Shoplifting. Selling drugs. Blowjobs in a back alley. And he'd always take the time to make sure they believed that all of it was their fault. That they owed him for what he was doing to support them. It went up from there. Usually he would hook them on drugs so there was another anchor on their life. At that point they were just a meal ticket.

Dave stared at me shocked. "Then why did he kill her? Couldn't he still use her?"

"Those guys don't want to get caught, Dave. I'm sure we scared him enough last night to push him over the edge. Any hint that the kid is rebelling or might cause him trouble and they'll cut them loose. Unfortunately quite literally in this case. Because the victim probably at least knew where the bastard lived and typically it was easier to find a new one than it was to find a new apartment. That's why I knew that she'd be dead. And while I didn't expect her body to be there for us to find, I knew we'd never see her alive again."

Dave tried to talk. "That's…. That's…."

I finished for him. "Evil. There is no other word, Dave. Not cruel, or stupid, or mean. Evil. I mean, with the bigger slavers you can find and kill them. Break up a brothel or a sweatshop. Kill the fucker in charge and rescue a whole bunch of people. You got to do that once with Justice Forever and I bet it felt good. It was good. But these little ones… You can't find them all. And they'll never run out of victims. And do you want to know what's even worse? A lot of them have real families at home, with wives they love and children that they snuggle and read to at night. Evil isn't a big enough word for these people but it's all I've got. All my curse words aren't enough. These guys not only destroy lives, they destroy souls."

I didn't realize that Dave was Catholic until I saw him pray for a moment and make the sign of the cross. He was Polish so I probably should have made the connection but he'd never shown any indication of it before. Then Dave saw me playing with the pistol in my hands and recognized the overwhelming guilt in my eyes. And of course he jumped to the wrong conclusion. "Mindy, give me the gun. It's not your fault."

"It is my fault." I said, still staring into oblivion. Telling all of that had exhausted me and I didn't want to think anymore.

"Give me the gun. This isn't a solution." Dave sounded scared.

I looked into his eyes and suddenly it clicked why his mood had changed so quickly. So, I popped the clip out of the gun to show him it was empty. "I am not going to kill myself, dumbass. And I don't store loaded guns on the wall." He still looked doubtful so I just handed him the thing. "But Dave, you're still wrong. It is my fault."

"Mindy, you did your best. His phone rang at the wrong moment and you had some bad luck." He defended my actions. I couldn't let it stand.

I looked Dave straight in the eye. "Dave, it is not only my fault once, it is my fault twice. I've been lying to you. Ever since the accident, I've had dizzy spells and problems with concentration. When I came down behind the guy, I still would have gotten him if the fucking world didn't decide to spin again. And when I was chasing him, I had a moment when I could have shot him. But I haven't been able to handle carrying a gun since the accident. It's just too painful." I shoved myself to my feet and walked across the room. "And now I think I'd like to be alone for a while."

"Mindy, I'm not leaving you." Dave protested.

"Actually, Dave, you are. Out. Now!" He tried to hug me and I slapped him. That got his attention. He tried to move toward me again but I think the hardness in my glare stopped him. He grabbed his jacket and headed right out the door. And when he left, I did nothing. I didn't cry. I didn't scream. I didn't throw or destroy anything. I just leaned against the wall and tried to pretend the world didn't exist.

About an hour later, the ticking of the clock that Dave gave me cut through my deadness. I'd made a hell of a mess. I'd fucked up last night and a girl had died. And as much as I wanted to, I couldn't fix that. Then I hit the one person who wanted to help me. I hit my Dave. And not in the practice or playful ways I usually did. I did it in anger. Christ, couldn't I fucking control myself?

Another few ticks and I realized I'd also kicked him out of his home. And it was getting late. We had got back around 10 PM after finding the body. I'd kicked him out at about 11:30. I mean, he still had his house to go to, but he lived here now. And I loved him and wanted him back. I grabbed my phone and called. No answer. I left a message apologizing. An hour later I called and left a second message, begging him to come home. Another hour and a third message that included sobbing didn't change a fucking thing. I was still alone. Finally, I decided to go to bed.

Is it fucked up that I used his toothbrush?

A hammering at the door woke me at about 4 AM. I grabbed a weapon and went to look out the peephole. It was Dave. His hands were blood red and swollen. His eyes were unreadable. I opened the door and he just about fell inside. I got the door closed, pulled him over to the couch, and got some cloths and bandages to clean up his hands. He'd obviously beaten something or someone with just his bare fists. I wasn't sure if he'd broken anything. I didn't even try to talk to him until the bandaging was done.

"What the hell did you do?" I gently.

"I found him." Dave said quietly.

"Found who?" I replied.

"The sprinter. The pimp. The bastard. I found him."

"How?" I asked. "I mean he could have been anywhere in the whole fucking city?"

"You told me where he'd be." Dave was still talking quietly.

"No, I'm pretty sure I didn't Dave. Because if I'd known where he was, I'd have gone and killed him." I said.

"Sure you told me. You said he'd be at the bus station. You said that's where they went for fresh blood. I went to the one closest to where we found her body and there he was. Chatting up another young girl. Another victim. Another meal ticket."

"That fast? Another girl?" I barely breathed the words.

"Yep. I walked up to him and shoved him against the wall. The girl got spooked and ran. Then I grabbed him. He may have been fast but he wasn't strong. Nobody interfered as I dragged him back into the alley. I kept dragging him until we were nice and alone. And then I beat him until he stopped moving. After thinking about it for a minute, I checked and discovered that he wasn't dead yet. That didn't seem OK with me, so I hit him some more until that little problem had been corrected. I don't remember much else until I was at our door. And I couldn't open it because I couldn't make my fingers hold onto the keys." He looked at me. "And I'm not fucking sorry I did it!"

"Dave, there are cameras at the bus station; you weren't in your costume…."

"I didn't care. If a cop had come up after I'd finished beating him, I'd have gone without a fight."

"Why?" I managed to get out of my suddenly dry throat.

"Because he killed that girl. And probably other girls. Who didn't deserve one goddamn thing that happened to them. And because he hurt you. Not physically, but here." And Dave put his finger on my chest above my heart. "So it was worth it."

"Dave, I'm sorry I yelled. I'm sorry I slapped you." I begged, trying to find something human in his eyes.

"It's OK. You wouldn't be Hit Girl if you didn't smack me from time to time." He replied. I didn't like how that sounded, but decided now wasn't the time to deal with it. "I was pretty sure that you wouldn't be able to get over it until that fucker was dead. I knew I couldn't. You'd just obsess about him. So I made it happen. Now I'm going to sleep and tomorrow we'll work on getting you back to your old self."

He dragged himself over to our bed and climbed in. I climbed in too and tried to put my arms around him. He didn't so much push me away as adjust his position every time I got my arms on him. I gave up and after a few minutes he fell asleep. After waiting long enough to make sure he was out, I cheated and wrapped my arms back around him. That worked.

I lay there wide awake and thought about the sacrifice Dave had just made for me. Dave had never killed anyone like this. Sure he'd fought people. Sure he'd been in fights where his opponent might have died. He'd Gatling gunned down the D'Amico muscle. And he'd killed D'Amico senior, but honestly, it was with a bazooka. It was reasonably funny and somehow didn't count. But there was a difference between pulling a trigger and deliberately beating someone to death. I had done it more times than I could count. My soul was already stained. His hadn't been but it was now. I owed Dave. More than I was willing to even think about.


	11. Chapter 11

No One Takes Down Hit Girl But Hit Girl

_Author note: Please stay with me. I'll do my best to make the payoff worth it. Dedicated to those who are lost and never found._

_Mindy is telling this story to someone, much as Dave does during the movies. Still dedicated to Bubbles, Wind to thy Wings._

Dave woke up before me the next morning, got dressed and headed off to what I was hoping was school. I wished I'd woken up with him. I would have given a lot to know how he reacted to my arms being wrapped around him. So, I spent the morning puttered around, cleaning, re-organizing, and doing anything that didn't involve too much thinking. I was leaning over some stacked mats to get a power bar wrapper that had escaped at some point and dizziness put me on my ass again. As usual, I decided to ignore it. Then I turned around and saw stains on the couch next to where I'd clean up Dave's hands. The mixture of Dave's blood and the bastard's blood staining it had already faded to a dark red-brown. Once blood dried like that there was no getting rid of it; I didn't care what Tide and Oxyclean claimed.

That man was dead because Dave had beaten him to death. Dave killed him in a way that I rarely do. Cuts, swipes, dismembering, stabs through the chest, I specialized in those. I'd aimed gunshots to either disable or kill. And while I'd even tortured a few people, pedophiles and the like mostly, it still had been separate. I'd hurt them and then killed them. Two separate actions. Dave had mashed it all together. Especially when he said he'd checked if the guy was still alive and when he was, kept beating him. I'd generally have done some sort of coup de grace at that point. Put them out of their misery. I wasn't sure what to think about this side of Dave.

Well, it wasn't as if the bastard hadn't deserved to die. So I couldn't find it in my heart to feel any pity for him. I guess I was mad because in the end, the cocksucker had still won. I had no idea how many girls he'd destroyed but at least the number wouldn't get any higher. It should have been 'bad guy removed from street, world is a better place'. But it wasn't. It had cost Dave a piece of his soul to kill him. And if someone was supposed to pay that price, I'd have preferred that it was me. So as I said, even in death the fucker had still won.

Luckily Dave came home before I had wallowed too much. His hands were splinted and I had to help him unpack his book bag. He said he'd been by the ER and they had taken x-rays of his hands. There was nothing broken, thank god, just tremendous bruising to his joints. Then he had to pee and I had to help him unbutton his pants. His fingers worked but couldn't handle too much pressure or fine manipulation. I was going to tease him about turnabout being fair play, but the joke just froze on my lips when I saw his still dead eyes. He was able to manage the rest and changed into sweat pants afterward so he wouldn't have to worry about it again.

He started on his homework. I just sat and watched. Half the time he was working on problems, the other half of the time he just stared at his hands. I understood and gave him his space. The first time you kill someone like that will mess you up. When we went to bed that night, I tried to hold him again but this time he was just limp in my arms. Finally I rolled over and went to sleep.

Nothing really changed for the rest of the week. Dave would talk some but not about anything serious. He didn't even bring up my dizzy spells or gun issues. That shocked me. I figured he'd be all over that. Not a mention though. By Friday the bandages were off and his hands were pretty much back to normal. I went to try to plan the weekend with him and he just closed up. Spring break had snuck up on us and Dave had the entire next week off. I even suggested we take a trip together, do something fun, but he refused. He said he wasn't in the mood. So I mumbled at him under my breath "Pity Party, table for one." It was just loud enough for him to hear.

He exploded. "You heartless BITCH! I'm sorry that I'm upset over having killed someone in cold blood. I guess little miss perfect killer doesn't give a rat's ass who she murders. You don't care how much blood is on your hands. Hell, you probably fucking get off on it! I've seen you looking all excited after a big fight, especially if you managed to send a limb or two flying! Well, that wasn't what I fucking signed up for, OK? I wanted to help people. Not murder them! How the fuck do you sleep at night?"

Anger. Excellent. Anger I could deal with. I shot back. "You want to fucking help people? Then grow some balls Dave! If you can't handle the real work, go back to working at soup kitchens and finding lost fucking cats. I do what needs to be done. Some of the people we fight against are truly evil and deserve to be put down like the rabid dogs that they are. Zip-cuffing them up for the police to find isn't always enough. You may hate it, but you did the right thing Sunday night. You took an inhuman monster off the street." I was yelling but not actually that upset. This was the best conversation we'd had all week. He needed this.

"Who says you get to play God? To decide who lives and who dies?" He screamed back at me.

"Play God? Holy shit, Dave. You're fucking delusional. I don't get to make those decisions. If I did, Daddy would still be alive. Your dad would still be alive. And that poor dumb girl wouldn't have ended up dead and stuffed behind garbage cans. I fucked up and she died. If I got to play God, she'd be somewhere safe with people who loved her. They all would! But, she's dead and I have to live with it. That's a hell of a lot harder than living with the knowledge that that you killed some cocksucker who didn't deserve to take so much as one more breath on this planet."

"You don't understand! " He spat at me.

"Bullshit! Dave, I've been doing this longer than you have. My Daddy taught me that every one of us makes choices. Those guys chose to be criminals and scum. They decided to rape, to molest, and to prey upon the weak. They decided to be gangsters, drug dealers, and real murderers. You didn't murder shit; you put down a rabid dog. Those people kill because they like it."

Dave replied. "But I liked killing that guy!"

We both stopped for a moment, shocked by what he had said.

I replied back in a quiet voice. "No you didn't, Dave. You liked that he was paying for his crime. You liked that he suffered like he made that girl suffer and who knows how many others suffer. You liked that you got to be the instrument of vengeance. I feel that way all the time. But you didn't like killing and neither do I."

"How do you know?" He replied, responding to my voice and calming down.

"Because you care that you did it. Because even though he was a complete piece of shit, you still care. You've been torturing yourself about it all week. A real murderer doesn't feel guilt. Both of us feel guilt for what has happened. But sometimes it's necessary. And I just have learned to live with it a bit better."

"How?"

"Daddy helped me. The first time I killed someone and ended up covered in blood, I couldn't seem to get clean when we got back to headquarters. Daddy almost thought I was going to drown myself in the tub and I wouldn't stop scrubbing. Finally he ordered me out and had me come with him. And he showed me a different way to look at things.

"What did he do?" Dave asked.

"Well, it's a little childish. I was only 8 at the time."

"Still, how did he explain?" Dave persisted, like the story was some sort of life preserver.

"Dave, I was eight. It was silly." I looked at his eyes. "OK. I'll do just what he did." I threw an ace bandage at him. "Wrap that around your eyes and tie it." He did. I went into the kitchen and grabbed a couple of kool aid packets. Then I grabbed some tape and a binder from one of the taller shelves.

"What are you doing?" Dave asked.

"Like I said, I'm doing what my Daddy did." I taped up a bunch of pages from the notebook on the walls of the bathroom and then led Dave in there. Then I put his hands over the sink and poured the packets of dry kool aid onto his hands.

"You're not going to hurt me, are you?"

"No. It's just a visual demonstration. Now, look down at your hands. Don't look up until I tell you."

"How can I look at my hands? I'm blindfolded."

"Point your head at them, dumbass. I'm going to take the blindfold off. Don't look up." He complied and I pulled off the bandage. "Do you see any blood on your hands right now?" I asked.

"Well, no." he replied. "But it's like I can feel it there."

"Fine. Wash them. "He did, and within moments of them being under the spray, every bit of water in the sink was bright red and his hands were stained with it.

"What the hell?"

"Cherry kool aid." I said. "I was 8, remember? It's not like Daddy was going to stick my hands in actual blood. Anyway, so how do your hands look now?"

"Stained" he said. I waited. "And… "I prompted. After a few minutes, he continued. "All right. They look bloody."

"Exactly. And no matter how hard you scrub, that won't come off for days. Kind of like your imaginary blood."

"I'm still missing the point of all this." he said, trying to get off as much of the stuff as possible.

"Don't worry. It'll make sense in a minute. Now look up." Surrounding him were pictures of missing persons, crime scenes, and other images of what happens to the victims of the things we try to stop. "Dave, we can't get the blood off our hands. We never will. But it isn't the blood of the scumbags. It's these people's blood. It is the blood of innocent people that didn't get saved." I reached up and taped up one more picture in front of him. It was of the girl from the alley. "I'll never get her blood off my hands because I could have saved her and I didn't. But I'll always feel a little better knowing that you cared enough to make sure the fucker who did it is gone. That's what Daddy showed me. I don't feel bad about the ones I kill Dave. I feel bad about the ones I couldn't save." I kissed him lightly on the cheek.

I'd accepted it. I still felt awful for not having saved her. But I'd learned with Daddy that I couldn't save everyone. No one could. Her face joined the menagerie that stared at me when I closed my eyes at night. The ones I hadn't been good enough for. And Daddy was in that group because I hadn't gotten to him in the warehouse in time. I never prayed. But late at night, when I couldn't sleep, I sometimes apologized to those that I hadn't saved and then tried to focus on those I had. It helped a little. I hoped this would help Dave to put things in perspective.

He tried to protest one more time. I cut him off.

"Dave, you wanted to know how I felt? How I could sleep at night? How I dealt with the blood on my hands? Well, take a look." I gestured at the pictures. "Because every time I fail, every time I don't do EVERYTHING that I can do, a person like one of these pays the price. I don't answer to God, the police, or the pieces of shit I kill. I don't even answer to you. I answer to them." I gestured at the flyers again. "And so do you, Dave. Neither one of us can wash this off." I held up my hands which I'd also dyed in the kool aid. "When I became a superhero, I accepted the responsibility to take care of them. You did too. All we can do is our best and accept the fact that it will never be enough."

He turned to me and kissed me softly with tear filled eyes. "Thank you." He said quietly. We moved out to the couch and sat down together. And, even better than me finally getting hold him, we held each other quietly for a long time, quietly mourning our loss until we could let it go for a while. Our breathing sped up and we looked into each other's eyes. Finally he spoke. "OK, how do we get this red crap off our hands?"

I laughed. "Time, Dave. In time it fades away."

"Well, if it hasn't faded much, we're going to look pretty silly on Monday when we go to the appointment to get your head checked out." He said conversationally. I looked up at him sharply.

"Appointment?"

"Yeah. That's why I haven't bugged you about the dizzy spells all week. I couldn't get you in until next Monday." He said.

"And when were you going to tell me?" I asked with a note of panic in my voice.

"Monday morning. Seemed safer that way. But I decided you should know now."

"I'm not going!" I managed to spit out.

He just hugged me closer. "Yes you are. And I'll be with you. You helped me face my demons; I'll help you face yours."

"But…" I tried to say.

He interrupted. "You just spent the last hour helping me understand what we really do. And a way to not lose my soul while doing it. You owe it to those innocent people to find out what's messed up in your head so it can be fixed. You're not going to start arguing with yourself, are you?"

"Fuck. I hate it when it my words are used against me. "I said.

"Then let's stop talking for a while. I ignored you all week. I have some time to make up for." With that, he began kissing me. It started as kisses of comfort but didn't take all that long to heat up.

"Dave, I love you." I breathed to him. I moved my hands under his waistband and began to touch him.

"I love you too." He kissed me some more, his hands also wandering. "But you're still not getting out of appointment."

"Damn it!" I said. But I didn't stop kissing him or touching him. Because he was right and I needed to see that doctor. No more avoiding problems.

Plus, by then he had gotten most of my clothes off and it was strangely erotic watching his cherry red fingers pinch my nipples. And then he slid them down my stomach and under the elastic at the top of my panties. After that, I wasn't arguing with anything at all.


	12. Chapter 12

No One Takes Down Hit Girl But Hit Girl

_Mindy is telling this story to someone, much as Dave does during the movies. For clarification, see the beginning of chapter 4. Warning: This is the chapter that many of you have been waiting for. SEX SEX SEX._

Dave and I fell asleep after playtime like two exhausted kittens. Kind of in a pile and wrapped up together so much you can't exactly tell which is which. Eventually, Dave said he needed to get started on homework. I said that he didn't because he had all of Spring Break to work on it. But, he was determined so we got up. Dave pulled his clothes back on and grabbed an assignment for his English class. I didn't bother dressing. It was rather fun prancing about with nothing on. And even though we'd already spent some quality sexy time together, little Dave seemed to enjoy it too. That or Dave had snuck a pistol in his pocket. I was shameless. I mean, you wouldn't have believed how many little tiny specks of dirt were on the floor. And I picked up every single one. Some of them were behind things so I had to reach over to get them at strange angles, some were a few steps away so I figured a cartwheel or a flip was the best way to get to them. I even spotted one behind me and used a backbend to get to it. Goodness, the place had been dirty.

I moved behind Dave and noticed he'd managed to read two whole pages. That was just unacceptable. So, I told him I was cold and went into the bedroom. I came back out in a lacy transparent teddy and continued 'cleaning'. That worked much better. I don't think he managed to read another word. I guess they were right. It was better to tease than reveal. I couldn't believe how much having power over Dave turned me on. I thought about strippers and I couldn't figure out how they could do this for someone they didn't like. That would be, well, gross and embarrassing. Some guy just staring at your cunt all day, then trying to touch you with dollar bills that had been who knows where. The way I showed myself to Dave was as much for me as for him. He watched every inch of me. And I proudly drove him nuts. Any doubts I had left about Katie or Nightbitch having more of an effect on Dave than me were destroyed when I looked at his eyes.

I changed outfits three more times, just for the fuck of it. After the first change though, I stopped pretending there was dirt and just decided to show him how fit and flexible I was. I also started to think about what I wanted to do next. So far, Dave and I had done a lot of kissing and touching. We'd gotten each other off with our hands. And, honestly, that had been pretty amazing. There was power in that too. I loved feeling Dave's dick pulse in my hand and his eyes roll back when he came. And oh my god, his fingers! Once I'd gotten past the embarrassment of him touching me between my legs, of how wet I got, and the way I repeated my seizure impersonation every time he made me cum, it was just pure heaven. I looked over at him and the book had almost fallen out of his hands.

I decided that it was time to up the ante. I wanted more. And, there were really only two steps left, oral and full on sex. I decided I was ready for both, but would just play things by ear. I was a little nervous about trying to blow him. I mean, it wasn't something you could exactly practice at. And while I'd previously thought the entire idea of sucking a dick was gross, the idea of watching him thrash while I tormented him dispelled that from my mind completely. Well, that and the fact that he was so excited right now that if I didn't like it, I probably wouldn't have to do it for very long.

I locked my eyes onto his and pulled him over to the couch. I shoved his pants down and forced him to sit. Then I knelt at his feet and started to gently touch his cock. He groaned. I gave him a smile and said "Don't cum yet. I've got a surprise for you." Then I ran my tongue up his dick. He jumped, or at least, he would have if I wasn't holding him down. Oh my god, that was cool. I licked him again, kind of in a swirl. Again he couldn't stay still.

"Min…" He tried to say. I just reached up with one hand, grabbed his lips and pinched them closed. Then I wrapped my lips around the top of his dick and started bobbing up and down. He tried to stay still but wasn't being all that successful. I tried kind of moving my head around in a circle while I kept going up and down. Kind of like carousel does. That worked even better. It was difficult to keep a straight face as he tried to stay still. I really wanted to burst into giggles. It wasn't that long before he seemed to be trying to talk to me and failing miserably. He was grabbing onto the couch cushions and anything else he could find. He seemed to have instinctively known not to grab my head. I wouldn't have put up with that. I mean, there were limits. I'd already thought about whether I would pull off of him at the last moment. But, I didn't want to miss giving him that last lick that took him over the edge. So I kept going as his moans got louder. It wasn't more than another minute before he exploded. The actual force of it took me by surprise but it wasn't super unpleasant so I swallowed it. I might have considered spitting, but seriously, where exactly was I supposed to spit it? On my couch? I don't think so. I've already got bloodstains on the thing. I didn't need cum stains too.

I looked up at him with a grin. "Well, that was quick." I winked at him saucily. "Couldn't you hold out a little bit longer?"

He took a minute to catch his breath before he replied. "You expected me to last after the show you just put on? I'm still surprised I didn't cum in my pants when you did the handstand splits in that thong. Especially when you balanced on one hand and adjusted the thong!" I grinned at him. "But you didn't have to do that if you didn't want to."

"Dave? Newsflash for you. I'll never do that if I don't want to. No fucking way. Quick hint, don't ever ask. But right now, I'm having a blast making you go nuts. Or maybe that's making your nuts go. "I winked. "Well, was I any good at it?" I asked.

"I feel like Ralphie in A Christmas Story. A + + + + + + + + + +!" he said. Yes, even I have seen that movie and so I laughed too. Then he pulled me up for a kiss.

"Wait, I might still have cum in my mou…" He covered my mouth with his and kissed me thoroughly.

"Who in the fuck cares?" he gasped out before kissing me some more. Then he picked me up, took me to the bedroom, and lay me down on the bed. Somewhere along the way I lost the lingerie I was wearing. I'm not entirely sure how. I later found my thong in the kitchen. Neither one of us had a clue how it got there. He went back to kissing me and was soon making my nipples feel as hard as bullets. First with his fingers, and then with his tongue. Now it was me who couldn't keep still. Then as fingers started to move down my side, across my hip, and through my pubic hair. His mouth moved down my stomach. I started to feel a bit nervous. Not bad nervous but….

"Dave, just because I did that to you doesn't mean you have to do it to me!" The bastard reached up with one hand and repeated the lip closing gesture I'd done to him earlier.

He looked up at me with a silly grin on his face. "Have to? Have to?! Seriously? Do you have any idea how long I've been dying to do this to you?" And with that he went back to work.

Well, that stopped any argument I could think of. He made me wait though. He started with kisses up and down the insides of my thighs. Then it was on to kisses on the insides of my knees as he stretched me open and looked right inside me. Feeling that exposed was an unexpected rush. Next, the kisses started to circle around my pubic hair. They were the most torturous. "Dave, if you've been dying to do this, then why don't you get started already?" I gasped at him. He gave me the same evil grin I'd given him earlier and kissed me right in the middle of my pussy.

I think I began to purr. Or moan. Or – fuck, I don't know. I may have been whimpering at some point. I refused to either confirm or deny it when Dave asked me about it later. Kisses quickly turned to licks. They alternated from soft licks to hard sucking right on my clit. He went quickly side to side or slowly up and down my pussy. Two of his fingers began to just barely slip in and out of me while he kept on licking. It was almost ticklish, but not. I grabbed onto his head and pulled him in harder.

Note that I'm allowed to grab his head and he is not allowed to grab mine. My pussy, my rules.

At this point I was flopping around like a fish. I'd started this so turned on that I almost couldn't handle how good it felt. First there was the power rush of driving him insane with my body, then the thrill of making him cum, and finally whatever the hell he was doing to my pussy that felt so good that I couldn't even keep track of it anymore. To echo one of the bitches, I was soaked. I also felt like a fucking goddess. Or maybe a Fucking Goddess. There's some slight difference there but I'm really not sure what it is. It was not a moment for deep introspective thought. I did know that all of the sensations were beginning to condense into one long burst of light, color, sound, rainbows, and muscles pulsing, and whatever else you can come up with to describe bliss. I came. I couldn't tell for how long, but it seemed to just keep going. Finally it was too much and I let go of him. After a minute, I yanked him up to kiss him. He tried to make the same excuse about his mouth that I had but I just parroted back "Who the fuck cares!" and kissed him soundly. We then collapsed onto the bed.

Well, I'd reached that moment of decision. Stop here or go on. I decided to let little Dave decide. If he was soft, we were stopping. If he was hard, it was full steam ahead. I reached down.

He was hard.

Yes!


	13. Chapter 13

No One Takes Down Hit Girl But Hit Girl

_Warning: This is more of you have been waiting for. SEX SEX SEX._

Well, Dave and I had just traded oral… gifts? OK – I gave him a blowjob and he ate my pussy. You shouldn't do the act if you can't say the words. And while normally I have no problem swearing, actually referring to sexual things I've either done or had done to me was still a little weird. And I had decided that if Dave still had enough stamina to be excited after all of that, then I wanted to go the rest of the way. I was ready for Dave to fuck me.

I reached over and made sure that little Dave was ready for the challenge. There was no question about it. Dave must have found eating me a turn on because little Dave was hard as he could be. We were ready to fuck.

Ugg. I had to figure out the language! I'd gotten so used to using phrases like 'Eat me!' and 'Go fuck yourself!' as insults that using them to describe myself or what we were doing felt, well, dirty. And not sexy like it should have felt. But rolling over to Dave and saying "Make love to me!" felt kind of corny too. While I was trying to figure out how to phrase it, I played with Dave's dick. He rolled over, looked me in the eye, and said "Do you want to?"

I beamed back at him. "Yes!" I shouted. Dave reached into the drawer next to him and pulled out a box of condoms. I had bought them, so they were colored. I laughed when he took the extra effort and pulled out the purple one. "It's like you know me or something!" I laughed.

"Mindy, only for you would I make my dick purple." He said, trying to keep a straight face.

I took it out of his hand and, with some help from him, rolled it down him. The condom plus my being on the pill would make sure that I still fit into my costumes in six months and we didn't have a mini-crime fighter in nine. He moved over me and got in position. I took a deep breath as he started to rub the head of his cock up and down my pussy.

"Mindy?" He asked. "I'm going to do my best here, but sometimes it isn't easy for girls to cum this way. Especially the first few times they do it. It might even hurt."

"OK." I said, trying not to let on how nervous I was. "As long as it's us together, that doesn't matter too much. Well, at least for the first time. But you better fucking try!"

"I will." Dave said, a little nervously. "Do you promise not to mangle me if I'm not perfect?"

I gave him an evil smile. "I promise nothing. Now get in me!"

"OK – I'm going to try to go slow here. Let me know if anything hurts." He began to slide in millimeter by millimeter.

"Umm, a little faster Dave. I'd like you inside me before I have to collect Social Security…" He moved up the pace and the stretching feeling was unreal. No pain though. I hadn't expected any, but I suppose it had been possible. It felt amazing and when I was sure he was all the way in, I craned my neck to see. He was only about an inch or so inside. Shit! This might be more involved than I thought. "Keep going Dave." I said.

He sped up the pace and slipped the rest of the way in. I finally understood what being 'full' really meant. Wow. And there was this look in his eye like he had made me his and surprisingly, I didn't mind it at all. He looked down at me. "Are you good?"

"Definitely. Now, get on with the thrusting and stuff!"

The orgasm Dave had given me earlier had been spectacular. But this was so different that I didn't even know how to describe it. It was just… Right. I should have felt embarrassed. I mean, his dick was sliding in and out of my pussy. That's even more intimate then when he was licking me earlier. He stared into my eyes and I stared right back at him with the stupidest grin on my face. Then, after a few minutes, he seemed to relax and start to enjoy himself. He stopped worrying about hurting me or me hurting him for somehow messing up. I watched the twitches that his muscles made as he moved in and out and it somehow made me wetter. I stared him in the eyes and for fun, squeezed with every muscle I had down there. He whimpered, but it was a good whimper. "Mindy, don't do that or this won't last very long. I responded by squeezing him each time he was all the way in. "Mindy…" He said.

"OK, I'll be good." I giggled and stopped the squeezing.

"Good? Good is not the problem. Oh my god, you're amazing." He replied.

Things were starting to warm up and my back was cramping up a bit, so I shifted down. The next thrust made me let out a sound surprisingly close to the word 'eek.' Dave tried to stop. "No no no!" I said. "No stopping. That was a good eek!" I pushed my butt kind of into the mattress and shifted my hips up. That felt even better but I managed to avoid any embarrassing exclamations this time. "That's it, Dave. Right like that. Keep going!"

"Am I hitting your…" Dave tried to say.

I interrupted, breathing harder with each stroke. "How the hell do I know what you're hitting? But it's working so KEEP DOING IT!" All I really knew was my body was reaching for some different kind of orgasm and if there was some way he could have pounded all the way into me and then somehow pushed his body even farther into mine, that would have been fantastic. Not deeper exactly, although Dave wasn't any slouch in that department. But more of us somehow melding together would have made my head pop off. I pushed up with each thrust now. I was done with being passive. Dave thrashed his head around, and I thought he might be losing control so I pinched him on the arm, hard.

"Ow!" he said, his eyes opening.

I panted. "Focus on me! Stay with me! No eye closing! I know you want to cum! So do I! Please, please, stay with me! Please don't leave me here!"

As in 'The Princess Bride', I think the 'please' got his attention. He took a deep breath and looked into my eyes again. His expression was a wonderful mix of determination and love. I could tell that he was still enjoying every second but now he wasn't lost in his own pleasure; we were sharing pleasure together. The feelings in my pussy intensified. It was like I was deep underwater and heading for the surface. I yearned desperately for that incredible breath when you finally broke the surface, but I didn't exactly know how much farther I still had to go. That was the orgasm I was chasing and I needed Dave to take me the whole way. Every time I thought I must about to burst through there was still a little farther to go. But it just kept getting better and better so I wasn't complaining. I started moving from side to side a bit and tried to stay focused on his eyes as I glided closer and closer. His breath got ragged and I begged him silently with my eyes for him to hold on for just a little bit longer. Then one of us started pulsing and the other followed right after. To this day, I'm not sure if his orgasm made me cum or my orgasm made him cum. He wasn't sure either. I guess it didn't matter. It might have been seconds; it might have been a minute or more. Every muscle in both our bodies tensed solid. And we both had a lot of muscle. Finally, his muscles let go and he collapsed on top of me. A few seconds later mine let go as well and we were as limp as a puddle of kittens.

He tried to pull away, to take his weight off of me, but I hung on tight. He looked into my eyes and I just had to reply "I want to be squished!" Then he took one of his hands, pushed my chin up, and began to kiss me with so much tenderness and desire that I almost couldn't stand it. Finally, we had to stop kissing so we could breath. My orgasm kept hitting us with little aftershocks that made both of us twitch. The feel of his cock slowly withdrawing from me as it shrunk was unreal. Finally, when he was just barely still inside, I squeezed and he popped the rest of the way out.

At that, we took a minute for the practical things. He disposed of the condom and we both cleaned ourselves up a bit. Then I grabbed for the blankets at the same time he grabbed for me. This had the desired effect of letting me lay my head on his chest and make sure my ass didn't get cold. He proceeded to make sure it was warm by resting his hands on it, one on each cheek. I lifted myself up for a moment because my boobs were squished a bit wrong and then settled back down.

"It's not supposed to be that good." Dave said. "The first time, I mean."

"Then I'm a natural?" I asked.

He looked at my hair, then lifted up a corner of the comforter and pretended to peer underneath. "Yep, you're a natural blonde all right. The drapes definitely match the carpet." I smacked his arm playfully. "Except maybe we need to put a couple of purple streaks down there…" I blushed and it felt wonderful.

"Shut up!" I said, and then feeling self conscious, I continued. "Really, was it…"

"It was amazing!" Dave interrupted me.

I tried to continue. "Better than Katy or N…

Dave cut me off again. "No comparison. If it gets any better, it just may kill me. But I'll die a happy man." Reassured by that statement, even though I knew it was a cliche, I lay my head back down and just started give his chest occasional tiny kisses. I felt him twisting his neck to stretch it, and then he froze. "Did I hurt you?" He asked.

"Quite the opposite, stupid." I replied. "Why?"

He pointed at the tissues I had used to clean up with that were sitting on the nightstand. They were lightly tinged red. I looked and giggled. "No you didn't hurt me. That isn't blood. That's the remains of the Kool-Aid that was still on our hands. And that ended up inside of me from your fingers.

"Oh, good." He said. We both laughed and he relaxed.

"Actually, how I lost my hymen is a funny story. Well, at least it is now." I said. "It happened when I was around 8 or 9. Daddy was teaching me a new karate move and I slipped and landed flat on the matt in a split position. I screamed out in pain because it really hurt landing that way and by the time he helped me up, my white workout pants had a large red stain right between my legs. Not to put too fine a point on it, but we both freaked."

"Big Daddy freaked? Over a little blood?" Dave asked.

"Hugely freaked. He had no idea what had happened, just that I was bleeding from my snatch. Not that he used that word. Anyway, he kept mumbling about breaking his daughter while he got me changed and packed up to go. I didn't know what was happening either so I was in full fledged panic as well. Usually when one of us was sick or injured, we'd go to some sort of back door clinic that for an extra $50 won't report 'suspicious injuries' to the authorities. But this time, he took me right to the real hospital emergency room. It was a nightmare. He wouldn't let any male doctors near me and the couple of female ones were already with other patients. Finally one got free, took me in back, and examined me. She seemed all concerned and asked me all kinds of questions about whether my Daddy or anyone else had ever touched me between my legs or had me do things to them. Shit, she even brought out some little naked muppets complete with boobs, dicks, and pubes and asked me to point. Finally, when I'd convinced her that no one had molested me and that if they tried, I'd kick the shit out of them, she asked me what I'd been doing right before I started bleeding."

I took a deep breath and continued. "I told her I was doing gymnastics, which was safer to say then karate, and that I'd managed to land in a full split position. Then she started laughing. At this point my nerves were shot and I was about to pull a knife and cut the bitch. But lucky for her, she recovered and explained I'd just torn my hymen. At my blank stare, she then explained what a hymen was. Then, she pulled Daddy into the room and read him the riot act because I didn't know what a hymen was and because he didn't realize that's why I was bleeding."

Dave chuckled. "Sounds like a spectacular night."

"It was." I grinned. "It's the only time I'd ever seen someone talk Daddy into a corner. He and I couldn't look each other in the face for about a week." I sighed. "Speaking of Daddy, I wonder what he'd think about us getting together."

"He'd probably have me hanging off of a building by my dick." Dave said.

"Nah, he liked you. But actually, we tried that with a pedophile once. It didn't work. You see, a cock isn't strong enough to hold a guy up without tearing, so what you have to do is get some aircraft cable and crimpers. You wrap the cable around his…" I noticed Dave's body freeze underneath me. "You don't want to hear this story, do you?" I asked.

"No. Definitely not." He replied. "What I want to do is snuggle up with the hottest, toughest crime fighter in the whole city until we've recovered enough for round two. And then I think I want to order Chinese food."

"No, Thai. But the rest sounds good" I said and rolled off of him to lay next to him instead. "I'm just going to take a little nap." I put my head on his shoulder and closed my eyes. I was almost fully relaxed. Having Dave call me the hottest crime fighter felt wonderful. But toughest? Well, I wouldn't be the toughest again until my head worked right and I could shoot a gun without closing my eyes. A little part of me was afraid that would never happen. Still, my body needed sleep and so I drifted off into dreams.


	14. Chapter 14

No One Takes Down Hit Girl But Hit Girl

_Mindy is telling this story to someone, much as Dave does during the movies. For clarification, see the beginning of chapter 4. If you were reading this piece as one large book, I don't think the note would be necessary, but it might be a lot of time between sections you read so I thought I'd clarify. It might get forgotten. I've gone back and added notes to the previous chapters. Any sections like this are indicated in ALL CAPS. _

I thoroughly enjoyed the rest of the weekend. I even imperiously sent Dave on a mission to bring back more condoms and Mountain Dew or perish in the attempt. He succeeded of course and by the end of the weekend, I was walking rather funny. Not that I gave a shit. It was that stretchy soreness that a good workout gives you. Losing my virginity to Dave had been an unqualified success and it seemed to banish any thoughts he still might have harbored about me being a little girl. I mean, I wasn't an Olympic class gymnast but I could stretch in ways most women couldn't. That really kept his interest. Not only did I love Dave even more by the end of Sunday, but I honestly loved his dick. That thing made me feel amazing.

I'm not blushing! …. OK, I am. What are you going to do about it?!

Monday finally arrived and I grudgingly got ready for my doctor's appointment. It was time to see why I was still getting dizzy spells. I actually considered seeing if multiple blow jobs would distract Dave from the appointment. Especially since Dave had indeed remembered not to ask for them, so I'd only rewarded him when I was in the mood. Most of the time though, actually blowing him seemed silly, so I just got him hard so he could fuck me. It seemed a shame to waste a perfectly good boner when we both could enjoy the experience by fucking. And yes, I fucking got past the whole fucking language thing. So fuck you.

It was time to go and I couldn't put it off any longer. After walking about six blocks to make sure we couldn't be traced too close to the safe house, we caught a cab. We got into the office and I signed in. Then we both pretended to read out of date magazines while the god damn analog clock on the wall ticked so loud it should have been attached to a bomb. After what seemed like an eternity, the nurse took me back and I had to leave Dave behind. He gave me a little 'thumbs up' sign and so I turned away and casually flipped him off while scratching my head. The ordeal had begun.

I had returned to the world of paper clothing and big round scanners that they roll you inside of and then tell you stay still while appalling motor noises come out of the machine. I kept pulling on the purple streaks in my hair because it was all of Hit Girl that I really had left. Fucking hell, they were just scanning my head and somehow I still had to take my panties off? I mean, what the fuck?

I felt pretty helpless. The doctors and technicians wouldn't tell me shit. They just looked to make sure the machine hadn't fucked up and then sent me off to the next test. Eventually the scans were done and the vampires had finished filling an insane number of vials with my blood. As a reward for not going psycho and killing any of them, I got to go home and spend the rest of the day and night wondering what the hell they would find. Well, Dave did buy me ice cream on the way home so I got that too.

Dave caught my mood once we were settled in and took care of dinner without a lot of fuss. We ate and then just found a movie to put in that I'd seen a hundred times. I sat next to him with my head on his shoulder and let him play with my hair. It doesn't matter how old you are, that somehow always feels good. I didn't feel babied, just taken care of. And I was happy with that now. Once I was tired enough, we went to bed. Dave held me. Eventually the fear finally caught up with me and I started to shake. I'm not sure if I actually cried, but my face did end up rather damp. Dave didn't try to bullshit me by saying 'you'll be OK' or any of that crap. He was just my rock and held me close. After a while, I calmed down and managed to fall asleep.

Dave made me a very fancy breakfast that morning. It was delicious going down. Not so much when it came back up. For a moment, I even panicked that I might have gotten pregnant and that it was morning sickness. Daddy had always taught me to protect myself in more than one way so I resolved to somehow get a refill on my birth control pills while I was talking to the doctor since run out. Daddy wasn't actually talking about sex at the time, but I'm pretty sure he still would have felt the same. Well, that is if he didn't decide the best way to make sure I didn't get pregnant was by cutting Dave's dick off. But, I had to pay cash for these doctor visits so it was better to combine things when possible. Being a superhero did not come with health insurance.

I was so nervous that Dave had to virtually dress me and then physically drag me out to a cab. I zoned out at that point until we were sitting in one of those annoying chairs in the doctor's office where the arms were too high. The doctor came in and started flipping through the big stack of papers I assumed were my test results. After a few minutes, he closed the folder and looked at me sternly. "Well, young lady, I hope this will teach you to come in and tell us about your symptoms sooner next time." Dave reached out his hand and grabbed mine, holding it tight.

I tried to find enough saliva in my mouth to speak. "So, how long do I have?"

"How long until what?" he replied.

"Until I die." I said, trying to sound nonchalant about pretty much the most chalant thing on the planet.

The asshole doctor continued. "Dying? You're not dying." He sounded a little confused.

"Then what the fuck is wrong with me?" I rasped out.

He seemed amused by my swearing. Apparently he remembered me from the initial surgery. "You're experiencing some minor blood clots. That vessel in your head is still healing and it's not that tough for a tiny clot to get stuck for a moment. It isn't enough that you're in any real danger. Once you finish healing, it will go away." Dave and I both stared at him. "Here's a prescription for a mild blood thinner until you finish healing."

"Are you seriously saying that I had around $10,000 in tests run and all I needed were some pills?" I said, trying to sound calm.

"Well, you don't have insurance, so it's probably close to $20,000" he said. "But, yes, that is correct. That's why I said you should have come in sooner. We wouldn't have had to do all of the tests." The doctor continued, apparently not understanding the amount of danger he was in by continuing to bait me.

"You cock-sucking thief!" I screamed. His expression paled and I think he began to realize how much danger he was in. "I'm going to strip you naked give you a rectal exam with an IV pole!" I continued and I leapt out of my chair at him.

Dave's reflexes had definitely improved in the last few months. He actually caught me mid-air. As I continued to scream obscenities, he threw me over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. I was so pissed at the doctor that I didn't struggle with Dave. I just kept swearing.

"OK, we're done." Dave said. He took that opportunity to shove the prescription in his pocket and carried me out of the room. I continued to shout incoherently and upside down while he walked through the hospital. Finally I stopped the cursing and told Dave he could put me down. He ignored me and kept walking. I looked around. Nothing looked familiar.

"Dave, where in the hospital are we?" I asked.

"The north wing. We're heading out to grab a cab." He said, still holding me still.

"This isn't the way we came in." I told him, a bit petulantly.

"I decided to detour around the children's wing. I didn't want them to hear you."

"Oh." I replied kind of numbly. "Good idea. Seriously, you can put me down now."

"Not till we get to the cab. I don't want to have to chase you through the hospital. You're faster than me." He reached up and patted my butt.

"You do that again and I'll double kidney punch you." I told him. All I got was a chuckle.

About an hour later we arrived home, prescription and dinner in hand. We ate and then Dave left me alone for a while, somehow understanding that was what I needed. I stared at the bottle of pills for a long time before I took the first one. It had all been this simple. Because I was stupid, I could have killed Dave when I threw that knife at him shortly after I got out of the hospital. I could have been strong the day I got dizzy and that cretin got away. The girl might not have died. I could have avoided all these weeks of uncertainty. All I needed to have done was go back to the god damn doctor.

I had just been too fucking stubborn to go. And I had to admit it wasn't just because I was stubborn. It was because I was scared. I wanted to wail and scream and climb the walls. I wanted to pound something until either I or it broke. The last time Dave was this angry, he beat that bastard to death. But I just sat there. Because acting out, hitting, screaming – all of that would have been too easy. It was a luxury I couldn't give myself this time. It was time to grow the fuck up.

I scratched at my nails and saw that a little bit of the red Kool-Aid was still under my cuticles. It was a reminder of the blood that I could never scrub away. Maybe I had needed that lesson as much as Dave had. Echoes of my past overwhelmed me as I remembered talking with both Daddy and with Dave about this; it seemed like it was so long ago. 'If you're afraid you're going to die, then you will.' It was your basic self fulfilling prophecy.

I had pushed through all the difficulties of being a superhero with one basic belief. No one could beat Hit Girl. That belief guided me through every scary thing I had done. I'd walked into crack dens, faced murderers and rapists; all without the slightest fear that I would fail. I wasn't even afraid to die, because dying really wasn't failure. It would have meant I'd given everything I had. No shame in that. Daddy had done his best and still died. But he hadn't been afraid.

But it turned out someone could beat me. I had the same arch-nemesis that so many heroes in comics had; themselves. I could wallow in it. I could cry. I could quit. All the heroes considered these options. But finally, just like all of those redemption moments they went through, I also realized it was time to pull up my big girl pants and get the fuck over it.

OK, so very few of them had big girl pants. But you get the idea.

Dave jumped about six feet when the first gunshot went off. I'd gone over to the range, picked up my favorite pistols with the purple grips and, for the first time in what seemed like years, loaded them. My hands were shaking a bit until I made myself calm down. I'd braced myself just like Daddy taught me and squeezed off that first shot. It felt amazing.

Once Dave saw I was OK, he just stood there and watched. I worked my way through every clip I had, and when I stopped to reload them, Dave took the opportunity to go grab me a coke. I took a drink, gave him a wordless look of thanks, and went right back to shooting. By the time I quit, my pistols were a part of me again. I sat down at the table to clean them and Dave took one of them from me and helped. When we finished, we cleaned everything else up including the remains of dinner and then suited up. I'd had enough of all this emotional shit. Hit Girl was back. And it was time to get back to work.

Sadly, our patrol was uneventful. Kind of a letdown really, after going through all of these epiphanies. I'd been ready to kick some serious ass. But even still, I was smiling the whole time. When dawn started to lighten the sky, it was with a joyful heart that I headed home. Dave was right beside me, holding my hand now. We slipped back into the safe house, stripped, and climbed into bed. Dave wrapped his arms around me. "I love you." He breathed into my ear. "I love you too." I said. And we slept.


	15. Chapter 15

No One Takes Down Hit Girl But Hit Girl

_Mindy is telling this story to someone, much as Dave does during the movies. For clarification, see the beginning of chapter 4. _

So, I was back in the saddle. The dizzy spells had been conquered. I'd accepted that the bullet to the head didn't mean I needed to change who I was. Holding a gun no longer made me want to piss myself. And, speaking of saddles, I was riding Dave on a regular basis. And I was having a fucking blast.

The world was perfect. Totally fucking perfect. Rainbow, unicorn and fluffy bunny perfect. Dave and I trained, ate takeout, patrolled, and fucked all the way through the rest of Spring Break. And, workouts felt so good now, no more doubts or worries; just the joy of pushing my body as far as it would go. Also, I think New York is one of the best cities in the world for take-out. Some many amazing ethnic foods and most of the restaurants open 24 hours. Then, when we were out, we took some total shit bags off of the street, sometimes leaving them for the police and sometimes leaving them for the coroner. Finally, Dave and I were experimenting to see how many of the positions in the Kama Sutra were actually physically possible. They generally fell into one of three categories; 'wonderful',' ow', or 'why the hell would anyone decide to fuck like that?' It was still a lot of fun.

Shit, I even started thinking about getting a cat.

At the end of the week, there was only one thing missing.

My period.

RELAX! I'M FUCKING WITH YOU! I'M EVIL THAT WAY!

It was true that I hadn't gotten my period. But it wasn't a surprise. I was young and athletic. It wasn't unusual for my body to skip them from time to time. I'd even anticipated this when Dave and I had started fucking and picked up some pee sticks so I wouldn't stress out if it happened. So, I stayed calm, pissed on the stick, and waited until it verified that there wasn't a baby on the way. Then, just because it would be fun, I decided to mess with Dave. I 'accidentally' left the box on the counter and the stick in the trash. But not until I'd spent an hour searching the safe house for a marker just the right color to turn that minus into a plus.

Dave got home, used the bathroom, and then came out and started working on his homework. He didn't react at all. Shit! I chatted with him a bit and either he was a better actor then I thought, or he just hadn't noticed. So, I went into the bathroom and made it a little more fucking obvious. I pulled the stick out of the trash and tried to make it look like I'd tried to shove it back inside the box but it had gotten caught. I flushed the toilet and waited about five minutes to cover the supposed time for the test. I spun the box and make sure the words 'Pregnancy Test' were nice and visible, then slammed the door open and stomped over to the couch. This was going to be epic!

I spent the next hour trying to look upset and not burst into laughter and ruin the joke. He didn't react at all. Fuck. He had ignored the stomping, and when he finally asked me about my day, I tossed out a hint and told him that I'd thrown up again this morning. He asked if I knew why, and I responded that I didn't want to talk about it. That should have gotten his attention. But, he still didn't have a fucking clue. His only reaction was to act concerned and offer to take care of dinner. Double fuck! This joke was taking way too much effort. Finally, he went to the bathroom again. Yes! I'd finally get the payoff I'd been working for. I grabbed the piece of onion that'd I'd stashed in my pocket and crushed it in my fingers. I heard the toilet flush, the sink running as he washed his hands, and then about the time I figured he'd be drying them, he emitted an inarticulate scream of panic.

He came out of the bathroom staring at the stick. Before he could look up, I rubbed the onion below my eyes and got the tears going. Shit that stuff stung. It was worth it though. This was going to be absolutely fucking brilliant.

"Umm, Mindy…" Dave said, holding the stick like it was a snake that had already bitten him. "Is this yours?"

I looked up at him and even managed a sniff. Shit, my eyes hurt; that onion was really working. "Mine? What in the fuck do you mean, mine? It's OURS, asshole!" I rubbed my lower belly in a kind of circle then turned away and pretended to be upset. This gave me a few precious seconds to smile before I had to put the mask back on.

"But we used condoms… And you're on the Pill too…. How…." Dave trailed off.

I tried to sound resentful. "You know how Dave. Son of a bitch! I can't believe you would do this to me! I mean, sure, I got a little turned around and forgot my pills for a couple days but I figured the condoms would be enough. " I decided to twist the knife a little more. "Where in the fuck did you buy those things anyway? The fucking Dollar Store?!" Holy shit, the look on his face was priceless. I couldn't believe I forgot to set up a camera.

"Look, it'll be OK. We're together in this. Whatever you decide, I'll support you." Dave sounded so calm. There was no doubt in his voice. He would support me in anything. What the fuck?

I almost started to cry for real. I mean, this was supposed to be a joke, but if I had really been pregnant, I couldn't have asked for a better reaction. I should have stopped but a part of me wanted to know what else he would say. "Decide? What the fuck do you mean decide? I'm keeping it, of course. I mean, anything could happen to us. To me! To you! How could I possibly abort something that could live on if we died?!" I was rather shocked to realize how much I really meant it.

What in the fuck was wrong with me? This was supposed to be a joke and somehow I wasn't joking anymore. Where was all of this coming from? But I didn't have the slightest idea how to get out of this stupid joke gone wrong. He was being so goddamn supportive. It was amazing to find out how much he cared and what an wonderful guy he was. Hell, I even started to wish that I was knocked up! I didn't want to ruin that closeness when I told him the truth but I'd dug this hole all by myself and it was time to climb out. I'd just have to go with honesty and hope he forgave me. I grabbed him and kissed him hard. Then I led him over to the couch and sat down with him. "Look, Dave. I don't know how to say this now. I mean you've been so amazing, but, umm, I'm not really pregnant."

He looked confused. I held up the pink fine tip marker that I'd used to fake the test and drew a little plus sign on my hand. His expression crumbled.

"What?!" His voice actually cracked. "Is this some sort of sick joke?"

"Um, it was supposed to be a funny joke, but it didn't work out that way." I said, trying to sound calming. He really didn't seem to like the sound of that, so I started talking faster to avoid interruption. I explained about faking the test and how I thought he'd just freak out and then I'd tell him and we'd laugh. I told him I didn't mean it to get this serious but when he was so wonderful, I got carried away. I showed him the piece of onion I'd used to make it look like I was crying. I tried to put the best spin on it that I could but it even sounded lame in my ears. Finally, I just hugged him. "I'm sorry. It was stupic. But, Dave? If it had been real? Like, seriously real? Would you have stayed with me? Supported me? Supported a baby if that's what I chose? I mean, you weren't just saying all of that in the moment, were you?"

"Mindy? My first real time out as a superhero put me in the hospital. And I still went back out there. I don't give up on things. I don't give up on people. I will never give up on or abandon you." He wrapped his arms around me and pressed his face into my neck. I could feel the wetness from the real tears he had shed. "I love you Hit Girl. I love you Mindy Macready." He paused to catch his breath. "But if you ever fucking do that again and there isn't a real baby, I'll….. I'll…."

"Pull my asshole out through my mouth?" I suggested, trying to lighten the mood.

"Yeah, that." He said, still choked up. He squeezed me tighter.

"I love you too." I breathed in his ear. And I did love him, in a way I hadn't even thought of before today. Then I said something that I still can't believe. "Maybe, someday , when we're ready, when we're sure, I mean, like, together we could have a… have a…" Now I was the one that couldn't finish a sentence.

"Baby?" he whispered, with excitement in his voice that he completely failed to hide.

After a long pause, during which I had to decide if I really meant it, I whispered back. "Yeah, that."


	16. Chapter 16

No One Takes Down Hit Girl But Hit Girl

_Mindy is telling this story to someone, much as Dave does during the movies. For clarification, see the beginning of chapter 4. _

I woke up the next morning with what I can only call an emotional hangover. I couldn't believe what I'd said and felt yesterday. I wanted a baby someday? Fucking seriously? What the fuck had happened to me? I'm Hit Girl! Not Hit Mom!

It did force me to start thinking about the future, which I'd been avoiding for a long time. Marcus invested a lot of time and effort in giving me a chance at a future without being Hit Girl. And, while I decided that his future wasn't the one I wanted, I still had to figure out what I wanted in my life.

Dave. I wanted Dave. That wasn't even a question. But what did I want with him? Marriage? Well, some kind of permanence but I didn't know if we'd ever go to the trouble of making it legal. Kids? Probably. A house in the suburbs? No. Fuck that. Not a god damn chance. I had to stay in the city. A job…. Well, I kind of had a job. But being a superhero was like being a professional athlete. Your career might go on for years or it might end tomorrow. And even if you didn't die, you still couldn't play the game forever. When we finally give it all up, my four million dollar nest egg (yes, four, I've been adding to it…) was enough to live on if we behaved ourselves and didn't buy too many jetpacks. But I'd be bored stiff and that wasn't really the life I was looking for.

Bigger than that, and maybe part of what Marcus was really trying to make me face was that being Hit Girl wasn't a life. It was a passion. It was a mission. It was kind of a job. A job he didn't want me to have, but still, it was a job. And while I knew without a doubt that being Hit Girl was who I was, I needed more. Daddy, well, he was Big Daddy; he had his revenge and he had me. Looking back, I had to separate being 'Big Daddy' from the actual revenge on the D'Amico's because it wasn't strictly necessary to create comic books about the people you're going to kill. Or to own over 200 guns. Or to have a rocket launcher, or 'bazooka' in Chris's words, in every safe house. Dave was more right then he knew when he said Daddy was nuts.

Sorry Daddy, but I have to admit that while you were right about the rocket launchers, truth is truth. You did work to destroy people who deserved it and you truly died a hero. But you were crazy. I can admit that now. But that doesn't make me miss you any less.

I was interrupted from my musings by a dripping sound over in the corner.

You know that phrase, that that into every life a little rain must fall? Well, the cocksucker who came up with it wasn't kidding. In this case, it both rained and leaked right through the fucking roof. The next few days were filled up with calling roofers and then hiding all of the cool shit when they arrived so they didn't think we were psychos and report us. It was a lot of fucking stress and Dave really couldn't help because he was in school most of the time. At the end of the week, I was rather proud of myself for organizing all of the chaos and not knee-capping any of the roofers when the final bill claimed that the ten hours of actual work time somehow equaled twenty five hours on the bill. I just pointed out the security cameras that I hadn't managed to hide and they corrected the 'billing error' almost immediately. Dave rewarded me on Saturday when he declared it was Mindy Orgasm Day and decided to see how many times he could make me cum. Twenty three is now my favorite number, but I was feeling a bit sore and chafed on Sunday.

The big question of 'What should I do with my life?' continued to haunt me. I filled my spare time completing every life goal quiz out there that I could find on the internet. They weren't all that helpful. I wasn't going to be a Weather Girl or a Librarian, for fuck's sake. When we were patrolling, I caught myself people watching when I should have been asshole watching. I kept hoping that I would see something or someone who would inspire me. But, no matter what I tried, I just couldn't figure out what the next part of my life should entail.

While I was at it, I also filled out some quizzes in Cosmo about what kind of lover Dave was. He had a few deficiencies so I left reading material for him on his pillow. He threw it on the floor and declared he was going to fill my 'deficiency'. Since my 'deficiency' was feeling hot, wet, and empty after reading the sexy articles in Cosmo, I didn't complain.

By 'deficiency', I meant pussy, in case you weren't following along.

Summer was coming and since the nights were getting shorter, so were the patrols. And they'd already been boring as fuck. This increased the pressure I was feeling to find more things to do with my time. If I couldn't find a life goal, at least I could do something interesting. I tried painting. I sucked and managed to hide the evidence before Dave got home. I tried going out to sing Karaoke, but all the good places for that are in bars and even with a top notch fake ID (a new one that said 21 instead of 18), the bouncers just laughed and wouldn't let me in. I actually enjoyed knitting for an entire afternoon before Dave came home and laughed so hard he almost threw up. Eventually I had to agree that Hit Girl knitting was pretty fucking funny, but he was still a bastard for laughing like that.

Then, just like that rain, purpose fell into my life. Literally.

But that's my next story.

See the sequel, which was titled by Makokam 'It Takes One To Raise One' when about 10 minutes ago, he kindly suggested that it was time to start something new.

Thanks for reading!


	17. Chapter 17 - Out of Town

On the Run

_Please review. I respond to almost every review. I'm not sure if this is really an extension of the existing story or a new one all on its own. The theme is the same and it requires some of the set up from the other story for context, but… Anyway, To set the basic scene, it's right after the last moment in the second movie. - minor edits for cleanup although I'm sure I'll still miss something... reposted with minor edits for typos and such. Although I'm sure I'll still miss a few._

You didn't really think I was done with this, did you?

Really, before I can tell you about being with someone, I need to tell you about being alone. And this is still about me fucking up my own life. Honestly, I'm amazing good at it. I should teach a class or something.

Fucking up for Dummies?

Anyway, I'd told you a little bit about what happened to me during my time away from New York City and before I got shot in the head. I think it's time to tell you the entire story. Maybe if I do you'll realize that there was a reason that I was such a pussy when I came back to town.

Anyway, let's go back to when I left town following the warehouse battle with The Motherfucker.

The wind plastered my jacket to my body as I crossed the Brooklyn Bridge. My lips were still tingling. My first kiss had been an unqualified success. There had been no nose bumps or unnecessary slobbering. It had been nice and clean. And I'd gotten to enjoy it without having Dave still wrapped around me and trying to decide if a first kiss would turn into first base… Or second base… And I really don't think I'm ready for any of that.

What the fuck is up with the 'base' system anyway? Only one part of me is kind of shaped like home plate….

I hope you enjoyed that image because I certainly did. But regardless, the kiss was done and the only excitement that I had left was beautiful sunshine and my Ducati throbbing between my legs.

That's my motorcycle, dumb ass. Not a fucking vibrator or some shit.

I was getting close to the end of the bridge, so I down shifted the bike and merged into regular traffic. I had a fake ID that matched the registered name on the bike so I figured that I should be clear. Why take chances though? Speeding could get me stopped by someone who recognized me. They might even know Marcus. Actually, I'm not sure if the cop knowing who I was or knowing Marcus would help or hurt me in that circumstance. Many of the cops appreciated what I'd done for the city but the kind of person that becomes a good cop still wasn't going to let a murderer off with a warning. And I couldn't really argue with someone trying to be a good cop. But a bad cop might push me into oncoming traffic and then see if there were any D'Amico's left to collect a bounty from. New York wasn't safe. Well, New York City anyway. I had to get out of the city but I wasn't sure how far I was willing to go. I mean, as bullshit as it sounds, this was my first time leaving the city. It felt like giving up who I was.

A couple of hours on Interstate 80 east got me to Birmingham. Food was beginning to become a priority. I pulled off of the highway and looked for something decent but not too noteworthy. After considering all of the fast food placed, I finally decided that Denny's was probably the best option to be able to sit on something that wasn't moving for a while and eat real food. Well, real pre-prepared food anyway. Patrolling had meant eating at all hours so I was familiar with the place and I hoped it would help me calm down a bit. I walked in and waved at a server. Then a waitress named 'Bunny' chimed out "Table for 1" so loud that I think the people in the bathrooms heard her. She led me back and gave me a menu. I suppose it's some sort of fucked up job requirement to for them to point out to all the other diners that I was alone. To increase the insult, she took the other chair away from the table and put it at another one. Now I couldn't even pretend I was waiting for someone else. This was going to really impact her tip.

I felt very conspicuous and out of place. That was new. I'd never really given a shit what anyone else thought before in this kind of situation. I mean, usually I was enough company for myself. But today had been the day for a whole bunch of firsts, I guess. The kiss had been a great start but every new thing after that had been crap. I randomly picked something from the breakfast menu since it was on the first page and I couldn't stand sitting there any longer than I had to.

After what was an absurd amount of time to wait for this kind of crappy food, I got what looked like a very rubbery omelet. A brief taste proved that you can indeed judge an omelet by the pool of grease it's sitting in. I was starting to run out of steam and it wasn't even worth the effort to complain. I managed to eat enough so that I wouldn't be too hungry for the rest of my ride and left.

I still tipped 20%. Guilt and the knowledge that I could never handle being a waitress forced me to do it. Besides, I had the money.

Outside, I gassed up the bike and headed back out onto the highway. Traffic wasn't too busy so I went ahead and cranked up some tunes to keep me going. Avril Lavigne kept me company for the next four hours until I reached Buffalo. She had a lot of wonderful songs about being powerful and controlling your life. And an equal number of them about losing or missing someone that you love. The mix kind of left me in a fucked up mood. I should probably be a little more careful about building a playlist for a long lonely drive. It's kind of weird, but the more depressed I got, the more joy I took in making myself more miserable.

Over time, you're going to find that I'm really, really good at that. And if you've never been in that mindset, that won't make any sense to you. But if you have, then well, I'm sorry that both of us have to suffer through it.

Bright city lights greeted me again as I got closer to Buffalo. It was getting late and I was pretty wiped out. So, I figured I'd get a decent hotel room and a good night's sleep. Everything would be better in the morning, right?

Right?

I really wish you could fucking reply right now. Even if you laughed at me. I'd feel a LOT less lonely.

I cruised down the strip of motels that were right off the highway. And I went through the same conversation at four different places.

Me: "Hi, I'd like a room please."

Them: "Sure. Go ahead and fill this out. I'll need a major credit card to put on file."

Me: "Could I pay with cash?"

Them: "Not a problem."

Me: "Great!"

Them: "We'll still need a card to put on file though."

Me: "Oh. Umm.. Could I just pay in advance? Or maybe something give you something like a security deposit? I've got plenty of money."

Them: "Sorry, we require a major credit card to rent a room."

Me: "What if I offered you $10,000 in cash?"

Ok, I didn't actually say the last part because I didn't want to call attention to myself. And really, that was the entire problem. I did have a couple of credit cards that I used for online purchases and shit. But one was a reloadable card that you pick up at, like, a 7-11 and the other was in my legal name. It just hadn't ever seemed necessary to go through the extra hoops to get a card in my fake name. The reloadable card didn't work for being 'put on file' since it didn't have a name on it. And my one card that had 'Mindy Macready' on it wasn't an option either. I was getting really fucking tired but I wasn't tired enough to risk them running that card through the system. I'd probably wake up to a SWAT team peeking in my window.

I wonder if any hotels take Paypal…. The jetpack company took it...

Fuck it. What I really needed was some god damn sleep. It was time to lower my standards. So I picked up some dinner (I wasn't going to repeat the 'table for one' embarrassment again) and then stopped at the biggest dive of a hotel that I could find. Jackpot. They took cash alright but it was so skeezy that I was surprised that it didn't rent by the hour. Or that they didn't hand me my sheets when they gave me the key. But it was a room and a bed. That was all I needed.

I keyed open the room. It smelled like cigarettes and something I couldn't quite identify and probably didn't want to. Still, it was someplace to be and I'd already paid for it. I locked the door behind me and then wedged one of the chairs in the room under the handle. I mean, if some fuckhead with a passkey decided to break in, I figured I could take him out pretty easily. But I really just wasn't in the mood. The place looked like it hadn't been renovated since it was built. Sad not quite stained carpets and linens. A lumpy looking double bed. A tiny little table. Oh my god this sucked.

I sat down at the table to eat. I figured it had to be better than lunch. I mean, there at least wasn't anyone to stare at me. I figured wrong. To my surprise, sitting in a room of strangers wondering if someone was staring at me turned out to be more pleasant than sitting completely by myself in a piece of shit hotel room. Shit. Maybe I should take the chair out from under the doorknob. If some cocksucker decided to break in, at least they could keep me company for a while. I picked at dinner for a while then tossed it in the trash. Time to just give up and sleep.

I eyed the bed warily. I was pretty sure it was a good thing that I didn't have one of those black lights like in CSI. The room would probably light up like a rave. That would probably leave me feeling sicker than I already did. Trying not to think about how gross it was, I dragged the comforter off of the bed because I'd read that those almost never got washed and most people looking for a quicky probably didn't bother to pull the covers down. I wanted to take some of my clothes off so that I could sleep a bit more comfortably. But the thought of my bare skin touching those sheets was more than I could handle. I went and used the bathroom, which was disgusting. I tried to hover but fell and landed on a fuck ton of bruises that I had left from fighting Mother Russia. Add to that touching a toilet that just screamed 'Hepatitis' and I'm not entirely sure this day could get any worse.

Oh, if you're a guy and don't understand what the hover thing means, ask any girl. Trust me, we all know.

I wanted to brush my teeth but I hadn't been smart enough to pack a toothbrush. And like everything else after I'd left New York City, it wasn't worth the trouble to fix. I shut off the lights. I wish I could claim that there was a neon sign blinking outside of my window to complete this stereotypical shitty motel room but I didn't even have a window. It was pitch black. I went back to the bed and curled into a ball, trying to touch as little as possible. I covered up with my jacket. And then I lay alone in the dark, running my tongue over my fuzzy feeling teeth and not able to relax because I didn't have that satisfying mint flavor tingling on my taste buds. Everything in my life was different now.

I guess I eventually fell asleep.


	18. Chapter 18 - Out of Town

On the Run

_Please review. I respond to almost every review. I'm not sure if this is really an extension of the existing story or a new one all on its own. The theme is the same and it requires some of the set up from the other story for context. I have no idea where this came from. reposted with minor edits. Warning – Trigger – Rape. _

I guess I eventually fell asleep because I did eventually wake up. Not that I was all that happy about it, but, hey, I guess I wasn't dead. That's a good thing, right?

I packed up my stuff, not that I had a lot to pack, and headed out. I'd rented the room for a couple of weeks so that I'd have some sort of base camp but there were limits to what I was willing to put up with. I was coming back, but I needed to make a few improvements first. I headed out to the local home store and bought sheets, pillows, and a really soft blanket. I also bought a plastic mattress cover so my stuff wouldn't touch the actual mattress. And no, the new bedding wasn't in purple.

I'm just fucking with you. Seriously, how could I NOT get purple? My life was shit. The least I could do was to get happy colored sheets.

I looked like a supreme dumb ass riding my bike with big puffy shopping bags attached to my back. Clearly I was going to have to come up with a better plan if I didn't want to buy all new shit every time that I moved someplace new. I mean, there's having plenty of money and then there's being wasteful. but it was that or give up my Ducati. And there wasn't a chance in hell I was giving up that bike. It was the only part of home that I had left. I made a second trip and picked up a backpack, some changes of clothes, shampoo that wasn't in a baby bottle, etc. Basically all the things I'd need to really settled in. I also bought some paper and colored pencils to amuse myself with. A third trip included cleaning supplies and the fourth got me food.

Soon enough the room was clean. I was lying on my new sheets, snacking on those cheese and peanut butter crackers, and finishing my 'Shithole, sweet Shithole' sign to put above my bed when there was a knock at the door. I ignored it. They knocked again. I ignored it again. One more knock sounded and I heard a female voice say 'Please let me in' between the thuds. The voice sounded young, but who am I to judge young? And there was a peculiar amount of desperation and hopelessness in that 'Please'. It kind of echoed through my own soul. So I pulled my ass of the bed, went over to the door, made sure the three additional chain latches that I'd purchased and installed were secure, and then inched open the door.

I was greeted by the site of a girl around the same age as me. Small crop top. Tiny skirt. No coat. Just a tiny clutch that I strongly suspected was full of condoms. She was probably a hooker. Not feeling all that original, I went with the basics. "What do you want?"

She seemed a little surprised to see a girl in the room but she recovered quickly. "Umm, want to have a good time? I'm, umm, really good!"

"Sorry, I don't swing that way. Have a nice night." I responded and tried to shut the door. Before I could, she'd wedged her foot in between the door and the jam. I was kind of surprised. I'd put rather short chains on the door but she had a really tiny foot so I guess that helped.

"Do you have a friend? Maybe I could give him a treat or something?"

"Sorry, no thanks." I said.

I saw the look in her eyes changing from seductive to desperate. "I could, like, clean the room for you or something? I mean, it's not like this place has maid service. Or run some errands?"

"Already did all of that, sorry." I was really starting to feel bad for this girl. If she was just a salesperson or something, I'd just tell her to try another room. But given her obvious profession, that didn't seem like the right thing to do. I noticed her peering past me and then her eyes lit up when she saw the crackers I had on the bed. Oh shit. Guilt began to gnaw at me.

"You're a hooker, right?" I asked bluntly. Shamefacedly, she nodded. I thought of a way I could help her. "Do you have a pimp? I could kick the shit out of him for you?"

She wrenched her gaze away from the food and started staring at her shoes. "No, I, umm, don't have a pimp. Just trying to survive in the world, that's all. Look, if you're not buying, I should probably go find someone who will. I'm kinda hungry." There was more than a bit of a hint in that last sentence, evidenced by the fact that she made no effort to pull her foot out of the crack in the door.

Damn it. No pimp to beat up. Things were still going great as always. "Are you on drugs?" I asked.

"No, I'm not on drugs. What I am is hungry. Look, I'll tell you anything you want if you'll let me in and give me something to eat, OK? This hallway is getting cold."

Ah, what the fuck. Might as well live a little. I went ahead and let her in. She weighed maybe 85 lbs soaking wet and she didn't have anyplace to hide a decent weapon so it was safe. I did check her 'purse' to make sure she didn't have some date rape drug that she could drop in my soda when I wasn't looking. Two condoms, a lipstick, and thirty eight cents. At least she was a safety girl. She said her name was Emily. I told her mine was Mina.

I gave her a couple of packages of the crackers I'd been eating. When those disappeared faster than I'd have believed possible, I also gave her a couple protein bars that I'd been intending to have for breakfast.

"Slow down, OK? I don't want you throwing all of that back up. It isn't going anywhere." I said, trying to stifle a laugh.

"Sorry." She said down and started taking smaller bites. "I was raised better than that. I'm just really hungry. I haven't eaten much in the last couple of days. No customers. I think it's between paydays."

I'd never thought of prostitution as something tied to when paydays were, but the type of person who would pay money for sex probably isn't that good at impulse control. They probably blow through most of their money and then try to survive until the next one. Well, I guess I should say that the girls 'blow through it.' Am I right?

Hey, I can be funny!

The girl finished eating and looked at me. "I needed that. Look, I'm no charity case. There's got to be something I can do to pay you back." She looked at me and the bed expectantly which made me feel very uncomfortable. I quickly moved and put one of the chairs in the room between us.

"It's OK. My money comes from people who don't need it anymore. Helping you is a good use for it." I replied.

"You don't scam people, do you?" I could hear the disapproval in her voice.

"Not at all. It's… complicated." Shit. I couldn't believe how much I wanted to open up to this girl. But, secret identities are secret for a reason. To change the subject I asked "What did you mean you were raised better? And why are you doing whatever it is that you're doing?" I'm not normally one to mince words but I didn't want to insult her at this point. It was nice to have someone to talk to.

"Hooking? Fucking for money? Is that what you mean?" she asked. "Well, I promised to tell you so I will. I started off like I'm sure you did. Happy mom and dad who loved me, just like you, right?"

I decided not to correct her that 'happy' had never really described either one of my parents. Sure Daddy had had good moments, but he was always so driven toward the mission that he didn't let himself enjoy them. And Mom, well, thanks to the D'Amico's I never got to even meet her. I nodded so she would continue.

"Well, anyway, I had it all. Then Dad got sick fast. Really sick. Cancer. And overnight it was like I didn't even matter anymore. Dad was in so much pain that he was doped to the gills almost constantly and couldn't even remember my name. He tried but there wasn't much he could do for me. Mom spent every waking moment with him. I was only thirteen and suddenly I was cooking my own meals and doing my own laundry. We had moved across the country for Dad's new job just a week before so I didn't have any friends yet. And both sets of grandparents were already dead so it was really just us. I spent hours at home alone because the hospital didn't allow kids to spend that much time visiting. When I did get to go in, I could tell that my mom didn't want me there. At first I was OK with it. We knew that the writing was on the wall and that he didn't have much time left. I thought my mom didn't want me to see him that sick, hooked up to tubes and machines and to remember him the way he was before. That's what the grief counselor at the hospital told me when I didn't manage to avoid him. He tried to get my mother to spend some time with me and to let me go through things with her. Mom barely acknowledged his presence. He tried to get my mom see him too, maybe get on some anti-depressants or something because she'd gone seriously wacky even for a woman watching the love of her life die. But she refused and he couldn't force her."

I sat there in shock at the terrible tale she was telling me. I suppose it could have been a sob story to get my sympathy but it didn't feel like that. I think she'd have been more teary-eyed if she'd been making it up. She acted more like someone who'd made it through a war.

She kept going, like she'd never gotten to tell anyone about it before and needed to purge it from her system. "Anyway, dad got sicker and slipped into a coma. And she kept ignoring me. Child Protective Services got involved at that point since the neglect was obvious and she paid attention to me for a little while. I was ecstatic. I thought maybe we could share our grief or something because I was losing someone I loved too. But after a couple of days it became clear that she was just doing enough so that CPS couldn't take me away. She still no longer gave a shit about me. And then he died."

Emily started to cry a little and I ran to the bathroom to grab her some tissue. After a few minutes she just tamped down the hurt and loss just like I did when I thought about Daddy. Then she continued.

"I got to go to the funeral. It was just mom, me, and a couple of people from Dad's work. The grief counselor had given up on us long ago and didn't even show. The priest tried to comfort us. Talked about Dad going to a better place and this being part of God's plan. Mom went mental at that point and told him that he could take God and his plan and shove it up his ass. Started screaming about how she and Dad were supposed to have lived their lives together. They were supposed to travel the world and do all kinds of stuff. She just kept going on and on and it was pretty clear that none of these supposed plans had involved me. I was hoping that it was just her anger, or bargaining, or whatever grief step she was supposed to be on. But her last statement put the lid on that coffin." She chuckled weakly. "That was kind of a stupid phrase. Accurate though."

"What did she say?" I asked. Shit. This story was better than Degrassi. Or worse. Maybe that's a better way to say it. I think you know what I mean.

"She screamed 'And then I got pregnant and it ruined everything!' That's what she said like I wasn't even there. She wasn't just angry at the cancer for taking Dad. She was mad at me for taking away some life she thought she'd have with him. And I realized that while I may have lost a Dad who loved me, I hadn't lost a Mom who loved me because she never had. At least, I hope he actually loved me…." She trailed off for a minute.

"We drove home after the ceremony in silence. When we got home and she just sat and stared at me. Her glare was so full of hate that I finally went to my room and packed a bag. I walked into the living room with it held clearly in front of me. I figured it would get her attention. I mean, that's what we do, right? As teenagers? Overdramatic gestures to get our parent's attention?"

I never had but I nodded anyway because I really wanted to know what happened next.

"Mom just smiled. Which was weird because I hadn't seen her smile in weeks. And then she motioned me toward the door. The meaning was pretty clear so I left. But I figured she was making some sort of statement. So I just sat on the porch waiting for her to come and open the door and welcome me back in. Or yell at me. Or something. She didn't. I was feeling stubborn so I didn't try to go back in either and eventually fell asleep leaning against the door. I woke up about 2 AM when I heard the garage door opening. I pulled myself to my feet and rushed toward it. Maybe she was going out to look for me and just hadn't thought to check the porch. But the car was so packed with stuff that she almost ran me over. I don't think it was on purpose. There was no way she could have even seen me. But she backed the car out and pulled into the street. I heard the garage door closing and before I knew it, she was gone."

"Holy shit!" I didn't manage to say anything more original than that. "Did she come back?"

"Nope. Waited around for two days before I gave up. Cried a lot but there's a limit to how much you can cry. I thought about going to the police or something but I was afraid they'd find her and put me back with her. I ended up on the streets. I was broke so I tried begging. It felt like shit even if someone gave me something. I couldn't do it too much anyway because then the police really would have grabbed me. But I managed to survive on my own for about a year. Then I got raped."

The hand I was resting on the chair tensed. I twisted my wrist and the armrest snapped. Emily's eyes opened wide and she shrank back like she was afraid I was going to hurt her. I quickly told myself to calm down and put the piece of wood on the little table. "Sorry. That came off really easy. Probably cracked or something."

Emily spoke up. "I know that look. You've been raped too, haven't you?"

"No! I mean, I've never even…" What the fuck was I telling this girl? I blushed.

Emily smiled. "You're still cherry?"

Brook's stupid fucking song came into my mind. It felt like my face was on fire. I couldn't speak.

She continued. "You've never even kissed a boy, have you!"

I wasn't going to take that accusation again. I mean, it obviously wasn't meant to be cruel like Brook and the bitches had been, but damn it, it wasn't even true now! I had kissed Dave yesterday! Yes! I pulled myself together. "No, I've kissed one!"

"Just one?"

I let my flaming face fall. "Yeah. Just one." After a long silence I went ahead and added one more detail "Yesterday." Oh great. Now the prostitute is going to mock me for my lack of experience.

"You're so lucky!"

"I'm what?" I looked back up.

"Lucky. If I could go back like that, I'd do it in a heartbeat. But look, I got raped. Which was just as terrible as you might imagine. But I've had tougher things in life. What my mother did was worse than the rape. Rape is all about betrayal, violation, and control. Powerlessness. I've had that in spades. It's not about sex."

"So how did you handle it?" I really was curious.

"Handle it? I didn't really have much of a choice other than to pick myself up and get on with life. So I did. And since I wasn't a virgin anymore and the cat was pretty much out of the bag, I decided to try having sex on my terms. I eventually found out that I liked sex a lot. Then one night a guy said I was so good I should charge and I figured, why the hell not? At least I worked for the money that otherwise I was otherwise begging for. When I get a little older and manage to get some ID, I'll try getting a real job. But until then, my life's pretty fucked up and I had to find a way to survive. But business has been pretty slow lately so here I am."

"Do you know where the guy who raped you is? I'm pretty good at making guys never rape again." That was as careful as I could manage to say what I did.

"I don't. That was a couple of cities ago and I think he got knifed by a drug dealer so he's probably facing whatever higher justice there is. So? Is that the most messed up life story you've ever heard?"

I sat there and thought about it. My life wasn't as bad as hers but it certainly wasn't good. Then I figured what the fuck. I'm all over the news anyway. So I told her my life story. With a bit of editing so that what I said couldn't be taken as a confession in court or something. But I didn't really hide anything. I came clean.

She stared at me. "You're Hit Girl? Seriously Hit Girl?"

I reached over to one of my bags and pulled out my wig. I managed to get it on so it wasn't too crooked.

"Gangsters, Mom dead, Dad dead, partner's dad dead, killed a ton of bad guys and now on the run?"

I grimaced. "Pretty much."

"Too bad that douche bag who raped me is dead. I'd have loved to have seen his face when you came out of the shadows." She sounded wistful. "Well, shit. I mean, my life has been bad, but… I'm not really sure which one of us wins."

I looked at her, realizing that sometimes you find friends in some really unlikely places. "I don't think either one of us has won. Maybe we can work on changing that together."

/Author's additional note: I personally believe that rape is as significant a crime as murder. A complete violation and destruction of a person's well being and dignity. While Emily has to a certain degree dismissed its importance, that should be interpreted as her way of dealing with it instead of diminishing how horrid I feel it is. And for the record, I am also of the belief that a person who has been raped still is a virgin, in that sex and rape have nothing to do with one another.


	19. Chapter 19 - Out of Town

On the Run

_Please review. I respond to every review unless I miss one in error. If so – Please send me another message. I want to talk to you. This is a shorter chapter, which I really didn't want to do, but I haven't posted in months and it wouldn't make sense to move on without the structural break. - minor edits.  
_

Emily and I talked until around 2 AM. Eventually we were both yawning more than speaking.

"I should go. I need to find somewhere to crash." Another huge yawn split her face before she could say anymore.

"Oh fuck that. You can stay here." I looked at the bed which was only a double. "I mean, we're both little. We'll fit."

She looked a little surprised. "You mean you want to…"

I cut her off. "No. Not that. Definitely not that. Just sleep." I blushed.

"I don't want to be a burden. I mean, I can take care of myself." She got up to go. Shit. Stupid fucking pride always gets in the way. That was something I understood. Then I had an idea.

"How about if I paid you to keep me company?"

"Seriously? I mean, guys say that all the time but they still just want to fuck me. And you're pretty hot. It could be fun." She tried to leer at me but the sleepiness in her eyes ruined it.

"Thanks, I think. Look, I don't want to fuck you. I don't want to fuck anybody, alright? I… I just don't want to be alone."

"Hit Girl is afraid of being alone!" she teased.

"I'm not afraid of shit!" I blurted. She just stared at me with a 'that's bullshit' expression. "OK, I'm not afraid exactly, but I don't really want to be alone. Plus I haven't had any fun in a long time and this was a blast. I'd like that to keep going."

"I could make it more fun." She said. And put her hands to her waist as to pull off her top.

"Stop that!" I stammered.

"Fine, fine. You're not into girls. But, I could, like, eat you out and you could pretend I'm that guy you kissed? You said he had longish curly hair so mine is like his. You don't even have to touch me."

"NO!" My face was beet red.

"How about if I just help you practice kissing?"

I managed something resembling a strangling noise.

"Oh all right. It could be a LOT of fun though. And if you change your mind, please, please, please let me know. You are SO fuckable." I had lost the ability to even make the noise. She finally gave in and changed her tone. "So you want me to just keep you company? For how long?" Her voice had gone all business like.

"I don't know. Tomorrow? A few days? A few weeks? Depends on how long I stay around here."

"OK. Can't charge much for that…. I'd be willing to just take food and a place to sleep? If that's not too much?" She said.

"Oh bullshit. I'm giving you money."

"Seems like a strange thing to pay for. Hmm - no sex so I can't charge for that… Does $10 a day sound fair?" She said, sounding like she was afraid she'd overpriced herself.

Holy fuck. This girl really didn't want to take a handout. "$200 a day." I countered.

"What? That's insane?" she gasped. "I couldn't take that. How about $20?"

"$300!" I countered.

"That's even more nuts! I'll go as high as $25."

"$400!" I shouted. This was getting fun.

"You really don't know how to negotiate, do you?" She said, laughing.

"Neither do you!"

"You're mental!"

"Yeah, I guess I am." I grinned.

Somehow that made her defensive. "Hey, I'm not taking fucking charity, OK?"

"Not fucking OK! And you can stick your pride up your ass. Look, I have plenty of money. And it's from fucked up scumbags like the douche bag who raped you. He owes you; fuck it, the whole goddamn world owes you. And, shit. Lots of people all over the world are paid more to do less."

"You seriously want to pay me that kind of money?" I nodded. After a very long moment, she just looked down at her feet. "You can't. I'm not worth it."

I pulled her chin up. "I can. And I'll kick your ass if you say that again. Got it?" I suppose I could have said that better, but what am I? A fucking psychologist? Finally, she nodded in agreement so I let the argument go. "I'm tired. Let's get some sleep and we can fight about it more in the morning."

We changed clothes – SEPARATELY! - And then crawled into bed. After a few minutes of silence, she said. "I'll take $50."

"You'll take more than that. But we'll fight about it tomorrow." I mumbled, starting to fall asleep. "Incidentally, you should know, I never lose a fight."

"And I lose pretty much all of them." I heard her mutter before sleep claimed me.


	20. Chapter 20 - Out of Town

On the Run

_Please review. I respond to every review unless I miss one in error. If so – Please send me another message. I want to talk to you. Thank you all for reading. minor edits.  
_

Morning came and went. Breakfast was eaten, and lunch quickly disappeared as well. Holy shit could that girl put away food! Then we went shopping and blew a bundle.

A bundle of money, I mean. We didn't blow anything else!

Or anyone!

Fuck.

By unspoken agreement, we didn't break the peace by directly discussing money. But she did let me pay for everything so I couldn't really complain. After it became clear that I wasn't treating her like some charity case and that I genuinely wanted to share what I had, she broke down and started asking for things. It started with the practical. New underwear was the first. She'd been embarrassed this morning to admit that she didn't have any when I'd gone into the bathroom this morning and found her sitting on the counter commando. Which was not something I wanted to see before my morning caffeine. Apparently some guys liked to rip them off of her and some just wanted to keep them. And, like sniff them or something. I mean, I know that guys are really kind of fucked up, but that didn't make any fucking sense and kind of gave me the wiggins. I decided not to ask for any other details and told her to pick out whatever she needed. She decided to stock up and bought a bunch. Both lace and practical, and all thongs, which looked extremely uncomfortable. Then some other outfits, some showing a lot more skin than I'd ever have dared, some normal. She got two pairs of shoes. One pair of sneakers for normal wear and a new pair of, as she put it so delicately, 'fuck me' pumps. Which for those of you not into girly shoes, are really tall spiky high heels. She had me try on a pair as well. I understood the name; they really pushed your boobs and your ass out. And for those of you who were curious, I didn't totter along trying to balance in them the first time I stood up. I'm Hit Girl, for fuck's sake. I do NOT have balance problems.

I didn't buy the pumps though. They just felt… wrong. Or at least, not me.

In the pharmacy section, I pretended not to notice when she negligently tossed a huge multi-pack of condoms into the cart. And that was really fricking tough to ignore because it was an obnoxious box with all of these strange words on it like 'lubricated', 'ribbed' and 'sensitive for her.' Again, I didn't want to know and so I didn't ask her any questions.

When she seemed sufficiently distracted by a display of cute jackets, I snuck over to the sporting goods section and started looking at guns. I managed to get one without a background check. It's amazing how effective pretending a couple of $1000 bills were $1 bills and assuring the guy behind the counter he was obviously mistaken when he tried to return them to me gets you past the background check bullshit. Well, maybe it's not so good. A lot of the fuckfaces that I have to kill probably get their guns the same way. Regardless, it was mission accomplished. I went and found Emily. And, yes, bought her the leather jacket she was standing there practically drooling over.

We dropped most of the stuff off at the hotel and then I told her I thought it would be nice to take a long ride. She looked a bit apprehensive but either she trusted me at this point or she just felt like she was in my debt because she didn't argue too strongly. I sealed the deal by pointing out that it would be a good opportunity to break in her jacket. We climbed on my bike and I guided us off to find someplace deserted. The more desolate things looked, the tighter she held onto me. By the end, she was about squeezing the breath out of me and I was almost giggling at how happy I knew she was going to be when she got her gift. Finally, I found a good place and parked the bike. We climbed off and I led her over near an abandoned building that would shade us from the worst of the hot sun.

"Umm, Mindy?" Her voice kind of quivered. "What are we doing out here?"

I smiled. "I've got something for you." I reached behind my back under my jacket and pulled out the small Sig 290 pistol that I'd picked out for her. "Surprise!" I crowed and held it out to her with a flourish. Her reaction was not what I'd been expecting. She screamed. And then ran. And then tripped, fell, and started slowly crawling away. I just kind of stared and tried to figure out what the fuck her problem was. Then I tried looking behind me in case there was someone there or something. There was nothing around that should have frightened her. Not even a rat.

"Emily?" I said softly. She just kept flailing on the ground. "Emily!" I said a bit more forcefully. Son of a bitch. I was not emotionally equipped to deal with little girl panic so I snapped. "Cut that the fuck out!" When she looked up at me and I had her attention, I took a deep breath. Then I tried to hide my irritation and look reassuring. Obviously I failed because her expression didn't change even a bit. I tried again. "It's a present!" Ah her blank look, I continued. "I thought maybe you could use a bit of defense in your line of, umm, work? Job? Profession? Shit. Yeah, let's go with profession. And, hey, look! The grip is pink!" I really expected excitement at that point and I still didn't get shit. Her face clearly showed that not much of what I was saying was making it through to her brain. "I bought bullets too." I said, hoping that maybe that was why she was so upset. She still didn't blink. Jesus. How much of a ninny was this chick?

"Ahh shit." I sighed. I walked over and sat down next to her. She tried to move away but I grabbed her ankle so she didn't manage to do more than wiggle around in the dirt.

"Who am I?" I asked her.

"Hi…Hi…. Hit Girl." She stammered.

"And what am I?" I continued.

She looked at me with confusion. "A vigilante?"

"Technically, correct. I prefer superhero, but let's not split hairs." Considering her obvious mood, I couldn't resist adding. "And we won't split anything else, either. OK. I'm one of the good guys. Good girls. Shit, you know what I mean. Do heroes shoot their friends?"

"Sometimes?" She managed. I gave her the stare of death. Then she began to laugh.

"Sorry about that. I was actually a bit startled at first but your reaction to it was too much fun not to play with. You couldn't even say the word 'hooker'. I mean seriously…. Job? Profession? Shit. Does that mean I get a retirement plan?" She managed to say past the giggles. Eventually she calmed down. "Sorry. I guess life hasn't really prepared me to expect presents so I'm not that good at receiving them. But, thank you." She held out her hand. I gave her the gun and just as I'd expected, she immediately pointed it at a nearby rock and pulled the trigger. It just clicked. She looked back at me disappointed. "Did I do it wrong? Is it broken?"

"No, stupid." I started to laugh too. "I haven't put any bullets in it yet. Plus, don't shoot at rocks. The bullet might ricochet." At her blank look, I explained. "Ricochet is when a bullet bounces off of something hard and might hit something else. Like you."

Shut up. The whole 'shot myself in the head thing hadn't happened yet, alright? Kind of prophetic though….

She looked at me with supreme puppy dog eyes. Then she held out her hand and said in a cute little baby voice. "Gimme bullets!"

It didn't take her long to get used to the kick and she had a tremendous time screaming "Bang!" or "Eat lead!" or "Die you motherfucker!" every single time she that took a shot. Her aim wasn't bad for a beginner and she took pretty well to the idea that until she really got some practice in, she should just imagine pointing her finger to aim.

I laughed until my sides hurt. I think that I needed that even more than I had the company the other night. It did a lot to dispel the last of the depressive funk I'd developed when I left the city. Maybe I didn't have Dave for now and maybe I couldn't go out and kick criminal butt without sending up a signal flare showing where I'd gone. But I had a friend.

We went out for Tai food afterwards and then went back to the room. After we'd collapsed into chairs, she looked over at me. "We need a bigger place. Better. Not so skeezy.

I nodded. "I tried, but I pretty much need to pay cash for everything if I don't want to get caught. And no place decent will accept that. Plus, really good places need references and I don't have any. Pretty much everyone I've ever worked with is dead or has a secret identity." I laughed. "I suppose the ghost of the Mother Russia could come back and tell them I did a good job killing her." I switched to a crappy Russian accent. "Hit Girl is good worker. Never give up. Is very sharp and precise. Needs to control her language though." We both giggled.

Emily chimed in. "Well, my customers aren't dead, but I don't think their testimonials would get us a good place either. At least, not one we'd want." Her voice went all low and manly. "Amazing girl, great blowjobs! 'Needs bigger tits but isn't afraid to use what she's got.'" We both lost it at that point and didn't manage to stop laughing until the person in the next room started banging on the wall. I just banged right back. This wasn't the kind of place where you wanted to be intimidating. Kind of like acting like a pussy in a prison yard. It was like begging to get shivved. We resolved to work on it tomorrow and decided to get some sleep.

I nosed around a few shady businesses while Emily made the rounds of her 'friends'. There were a couple of warehouse spaces where we could easily rent a few thousand square feet. That sounded ideal until I worked through all of the details. None of them were all that secure. Plus, they didn't have much in the way of bathroom facilities and I wasn't all that excited about the idea of peeing in a bucket. We were about to give up and accept living in a shitty motel room until Emily found Jordan.

Jordan was apparently some sort of do-gooder minister and had a good reputation on the street. He'd help girls like Emily find a nicer place to live and then help them get out of 'hooking'. Eventually, he'd even find them jobs in a new place where no one knew about their past. He showed Em postcards from some of the girls he'd guided into a new life. And even though he was all religious and shit, he didn't judge or condemn the girls for their actions. As far as he was concerned, it wasn't their fault that life had let them down. "Let he who is without sin cast the first stone" was his motto. "And all of us have sinned."

He wouldn't help just anyone though so we were going to have to put some work into this. He was rather particular and you kind of had to interview with him. He said it was because he didn't want to use his limited resources on girls who weren't ready to change their lives. And he wanted to meet both of us so I would have to dress the part when we went to see him. We went back to the store and this time I bought the 'fuck me' pumps that I'd tried on last time. That and a tiny micro dress that barely covered my ass. It all looked too pretty though, so we went on YouTube and found a bunch of videos on how to 'age' costumes. We knew we needed to look pretty down and out for him to give us a shot. We ripped the hem a bit, put a couple of artful snags in my stockings, and added some 'suspicious' looking stains. Emily offered to find a guy to jack off on the dress so the stains would be real, but there was no way in hell I was going to wear something that some guy has spewed on. Emily already had appropriate clothing that was far more authentic than I was willing to think about so she was set We rounded out the look with some fake bruises done up with makeup. Emily normally had the real thing there too, but she'd been with me long enough that they'd all faded. We were ready to meet him.

Turned out all of our work was pretty much a waste of time. He didn't even glance at our clothes. I caught him checking out Emily's tits a few times, but, hey, minister or not, he was still a guy. I was a little disappointed that he didn't check out mine, but I'd declined to stuff my bra and I really didn't have all that much going on in the boob department.

That's kind of stupid, isn't it? Being disappointed in not being ogled? When I normally would be offended at someone staring? But I was. Life is weird that way sometimes.

Anyway, boob examinations aside, we met his criteria and he set us up in a small apartment in a building he managed. Or owned. He was a little vague on that point but I didn't push it because the place was cute and clean.

In hindsight, I probably should have pushed….


	21. Chapter 21 - Out of Town

On the Run

_Please review. I respond to every review unless I miss one in error. If so – Please send me another message. I want to talk to you. Thank you all for edits.  
_

So Emily and I had our own apartment. I had enough money to cover everything even though she still fought tooth and nail when I tried to share. I started to train and get back into fighting shape. At Emily's insistence, I even started doing yoga which I'd previously thought was a waste of time. Tai chi - yes, yoga no. But holy fuck, that girl could bend herself into some weird positions. I mean, I was flexible, but… damn. Each of us had very different reasons to want that level of balance and mobility but we tried not to talk about it too much. It was… awkward. But we did laugh a lot at each other when a position went wrong. We'd either topple over or have our yoga pants try to go places that pants never should go.

I needed to build up my stamina though so I started jogging. I decided do it at night to combine exercise and profit. I was even attacked by fuckwads with money every couple of days so I didn't have to dig too far into my savings. I really enjoyed that because it added a little spice to the workout. Emily thought I was insane. I offered to have her go with me on numerous occasions, she never accepted. Sometimes I didn't understand that girl.

At first I thought I was building a new kind of life but I eventually realized it wasn't that different than high school had been. I wasn't going anywhere; I was just coasting along. It was a bit better because I actually got to kick the shit out of people from time to time. That had been missing when Marcus had still been in the picture. But I didn't have a goal or a mission. There was nothing to bring any meaning to what I was doing. Emily was a lot of fun but she didn't understand who I was any more than Marcus had. She was a friend. Just a friend. Not a best friend. Not a soul mate.

Holy fuck I missed Dave.

Money continued to be an issue between Emily and me. She wanted to support herself and it had started to get really nasty when finally she found a job. Jordan, the building manager/owner/prostitute redeemer decided that he needed someone to work afternoons answering the phone, typing letters, and that kind of shit. He offered it to Emily and she jumped at it. Soon we really weren't seeing that much of one another. She had work during the day when I mostly slept and she was out like a light long before I got back from my midnight jogs. We still managed to exercise together but that was about it.

In hindsight, I probably should have realized the importance of the changes that went on over the next week. In my defense, I have to admit that I was thinking more and more about how much I missed being with Dave and letting everything else pass me by. I didn't have the slightest clue what was really going on in my world. It started simple. One afternoon, I woke up to find that Emily had completely re-arranged the living room. The TV faced a different wall and oddly, she'd put a lot more lights in there. The next day, there was also a water leak in the bathroom that eventually Jordan had to come up and fix. I'd think that I had it all taken care of and then I'd go back in there to pee and find a puddle on the floor again. It took Jordan all afternoon to get it taken care of and even though I tried to beg off, Emily was insistent that she and I go out while he worked. He'd given her the day off and she said she wanted to pay me back for all the times I'd treated her. I tried to argue that a person should get to pick their own reward and that I wanted to sleep, but she grabbed my arm and pulled me out the door. Sure I could have stopped her, but not without making a scene. So, we went window shopping, then got dinner. I put my foot down when she tried to add a movie to the evening. I told her it wasn't a fucking date and that I wanted to get home. She grumpily accepted and spent all of the ride home texting. That's pretty challenging while riding on the back of a motorcycle. I tried to ask her who she was texting and she just ignored me.

Then the actual weird shit started. She got mad if I hung a towel on the wrong hook in the bathroom when I took a shower and I wasn't allowed to get the bathroom too steamy. "It'll cause mildew" was all she'd say. But, I'd watched enough sitcoms to know that as roommates, you kind of have to accept each others strange shit. It got worse. I got a great Jet Li poster in a really classy frame and hung it up one night. She flipped out. "You can't hang it there!" she wailed for over an hour until I finally gave in and moved it to another wall. When she calmed down, she said tried to claim that it was some sort of Feng shui bullcrap. I didn't buy it so I did a little research. And where she wanted to put it wasn't 'Feng shui' at all. It would block all the chi energy in the room or some horseshit. So, I called her on it and she went ballistic. She turned it around on me claiming that I thought I was so superior to her. "When the fuck did you become a Feng shui expert, huh?" she screamed. "From one fucking website?" I decided to give in to keep the peace but really, it was a weird thing for her to get that obsessed over.

It was getting warmer in the building as we moved toward summer. So, I got to discover another cute quirk about my roommate. Emily absolutely hated running the AC. She'd always say it was just us girls so we might as well save some money and just wear less clothes. Which was a weird ass reason not to run it. And 'ass' is really the right word because, thanks to her 'no air conditioning, clothing optional policy', I saw a lot of hers. I mean, she was doing yoga in not much more than a thong. And since it was so fucking hot, I eventually broke down followed along. It did minimize the laundry. Then one afternoon she went a little too far. She decided that she was too hot to wear the thong and just skinned it down. I stared at her, then did my best to stop staring at her. I might have finally drawn a line in the sand (or should it be a 'crack?) but she was far more confidant with her body than I was. It made me jealous. Eventually peer pressure and a really sweaty pair of yoga pants that were starting to chafe in some not so comfortable places wore me down. I gave in to clothing being bit more optional myself. Not as far as her but I tried to feel confident in the same way that she did. I mean, you're probably about ready to whack it off under the table at all this craziness but it really was just us girls and who really cared?

Plus, and I know this is kind of fucked up, but I got kind of excited at the idea of Dave somehow tracking me down and bursting through the door to find me doing nude yoga. I wasn't quite sure what I wanted to happen after he came in the door. I did know that I wanted to see the look on his face and then…. Well, my mind typically went kind of fuzzy at that point. Maybe that fantasy might have been why I didn't put all of these weird pieces together. That or I really was just that much of an innocent fucking idiot.

Have any of you put this shit together yet? Really? I mean, did I not see it because I was stupid or does it just help to be a perv?

The first 'crack' in the carefully orchestrated plan was literally in the wall. I noticed there were several cracks in the walls of our exercise slash living room. So, I one afternoon I decided to patch them. Emily completely flipped out. I'd thought that she would be thrilled. But instead, she totally lost her shit. Kept going on about how angry Jordan was going to be that I'd changed how quaint and rustic the apartment was. I didn't see how he'd have that much to complain about. I'd matched the wall color pretty well and even offered to paint the place if he wanted. No dice. Emily marched me downstairs and made me apologize to Jordan right on the spot. He tried to look calm on the exterior, but he was obviously seething underneath. And I got this strange kind of 'pervey' vibe off of him. Suddenly I was happen he hadn't stared at my boobs. After he went on and on for about half an hour, I offered chip the shit back out if that would make everyone fucking happy. He kind of froze at that, calmed down, and said to leave it alone. He'd restore the 'rustic charm' himself. And he made me promise not to make any more changes to the place without his express permission. After a bit of consideration, I decided that this was not the time to tell him about the secret door I'd built into the back of the hall closet to hide my gear.

The next 'crack' was in the toilet. Like literally a crack in the base of the toilet. I mean, I've broken a few of them by throwing guys into them but it was always the top that shattered. The bottom would still be solidly attached to the floor. I couldn't imagine how this could even happen without, say, taking a hammer to the thing. Emily just picked up the phone and a few minutes later, in came Jordan to take care of the repairs. Emily dragged me out of the place while he worked again. This time I controlled where we went and I decided we were going to go to the laundromat. The weird vibes were getting stronger and I had this weird image of Jordan smelling my underwear or something. I took all of it with me to wash, even the clean stuff. And when we got back, not only was the leak was fixed but the 'artful' wall cracks were back. Emily went on and on about how they made the place look rustic. Look, I kind of get the idea behind looking 'rustic' but there's a fine line between that and just looking like shit. I just didn't get it but what the fuck did I know about decorating? Tired, I just agreed with her to shut her up. But inside, I knew that this living situation wasn't going to last much longer.

I decided to go for another late night run. Hopefully I could clear my head and then, calmly, sit down with Emily to discuss the future. Maybe if we started over somewhere else or if we got separate places we could still be friends. And if we couldn't, well, at least I could finally try to sleep without feeling like I was trapped in a sauna. I got lucky and pounding a couple of drug dealers into the concrete helped me to calm down. I felt like I could go back to the apartment and talk about this rationally. In fact, I felt so good about it that I cut short my run and headed back early. It was time to discuss the situation head on.

When I got home, I slipped in quietly more because it was a habit then because I was trying not to be noticed. I peeked around the corner and saw the strangest thing I'd ever seen. Emily was sitting on the couch. Naked. With her legs spread. Touching herself. Embarrassed, I decided to slip back out of the room until she, umm, finished or something. I was so focused on not looking at her that it took a moment to realize that she was talking all sexy like. Things like "You want to see me? Huh? All of me? Do you want to taste me?" I couldn't believe it. But it was odd enough to cut through my feelings of shame. Who in the fuck was she talking to? I hadn't seen anyone else in the room. I peeked back into the room and noticed that she was talking to the wall. She was looking directly at the wall opposite her and asking it if it wanted to fuck her. And while I didn't know dick about sex, I was pretty damn sure that walls didn't make great lovers. I mean, it had been staring at my ass for weeks while I did yoga with her. I was about to laugh at the thought when the weirdness actually went up a notch. She wasn't talking to the wall. She was talking to one of the cracks in the wall. All of her attention was directed at one of those artful fucking cracks. I stared at it, incredulous. Then, I heard a tiny whirring noise and saw the glint of glass through the crack.

HOLY FUCK! THERE WAS A FUCKING CAMERA IN THE FUCKING WALL!

She was being recorded. And I couldn't decide in the moment whether it was better or worse that she knew it was happening. Then the moment got a whole lot bigger. How long had that camera been there? Were there more? Was that the reason that Emily and Jordan had gotten so upset at me fixing up the apartment? What else had it been recording?

Me?

Then the world went red.


	22. Chapter 22 - Out of Town

On the Run

_Please review. I respond to every review unless I miss one in error. If so – Please send me another message. I want to talk to you. This one is getting pretty graphic and destructive. But that's the trip I'm taking Mindy on and it can't be done if it stays 'PG'. Thank you all for reading. Four re-writes. I don't think I can get this any deeper. Minor edits for sequence.  
_

Wonderful. Absolutely fucking wonderful. I was back in a shitty motel room, draped across the bed like a dead fish. I didn't care this time what the fuck the sheets were stained with. Tears kept rolling down my face and sobs wracked my body. My hands were bloody. Not with someone else's blood as per usual. This time it was my own. After I'd paid the skeezy guy at the front desk for my room, both in advance and declining his 'blow job' 20% discount, I'd dragged my weary body straight into the room. I wasn't even mad about the discount shit. I didn't care, not about that, not about anything. I wandered through the room aimlessly at first and ended up in the bathroom. But as soon as I saw my own reflection in the mirror, I smashed my fists into it until the glass shattered. I couldn't stand the thought of looking at myself. And the physical pain in my hands was easier to deal with than the wrenching pain in my soul. It was a welcome distraction and an anchor on reality that I needed right now. So there I lay, watching my blood soak into the sheets through my tears. I tried not to think about the last six hours. I really, really tried.

Oh, and to add insult to injury, I had cramps. Bad fucking cramps. I only add this fact to address those assholes who like to say 'It could be worse'. Say that to me right now and I'll literally put your balls in a blender.

On frappe. Ever seen Hard Candy?

It had been a crazy few hours. Rage and despair had wiped some of it from my mind, but most of it just sat there and rotted in my soul. Even now, years later, when things get dark, when I don't know how I'm going to make it through the night, some sick part of me will replay what happened that day and push me even deeper into depression. Sometimes I can distract myself. I can look up at the stars from the top of a skyscraper or bury myself in Dave's arms to blot out the world. I can let go of the guilt for a little while. But lying in that hotel room, it was too raw. I couldn't hide from myself as the events played over and over in my mind. I wanted to change something, anything. I wanted to not be me. And every time that I went through the events in my head again, it made me feel worse. Which is exactly how I wanted to feel.

Look, I'm Hit-Girl and proud of it. Extremely fucking proud. I have no problem with killing or maiming the guilty. They get what they deserve. I mean, I've castrated guys, crushed them inside cars, blithely removed their limbs while making a comic quip, and used any number of other gruesome ways to remove the shit of humanity from the gene pool. Heh. Gotta try 'I'm the chlorine, you motherfuckers!' the next time I bust in on some drug gang. They'd never get it but I bet Dave would about piss himself laughing. But being Hit-Girl was always on my terms. I didn't let it consume me. I stayed in control. I know that when you watch me that it doesn't always look like I'm in control, but I am. Even when I fought D'Amico or Mother Russia and I was certain that I was going to die, I was still me. Tonight that had changed. I'd become one of the monsters in the dark and I didn't have the slightest fucking clue how to handle it.

I'd come back to the apartment to discover that the pervert landlord had been spying on Emily and I ever since we moved in. Well, technically the spying part was only on me. Emily knew all about it because I'd found her playing with her pussy right in front of a camera and talking all sexy to it. Which is really not what you want to see when you'd been trying to remember if you had DVR'd Reservoir Dogs when you walked through the door. So at first, I just stood there and tried to understand what the fuck she was doing. And then, when I put the pieces together, recognized that there must be someone watching on the other side of that camera, I still just stood there for a few more minutes. I know I said my vision pretty much went straight to red but as I think about it some more, I realize that things didn't quite go down that quickly. I was still trying to figure out what in the fuck she was doing. Because it didn't make a bit of sense. I had plenty of money and I hadn't been shy about sharing it. There wasn't any need to do this unless, maybe she got off on it or something? But, why was the camera all concealed? She could have just used the webcam on my laptop of something.

Shit. I'm suddenly hating the word 'laptop.'

So, the only reason that the camera should be hidden was if it was being hidden from me. And that meant it could have been watching me anytime I was in that room. Like when I did my workouts or any number of extreme stretches. Movements that, while effective, didn't leave any part of my privates to the imagination. Some part of me automatically assumed that there were more cameras hidden around the apartment and eventually I found out that I was right. There was one in my room focused on where I changed clothes. There was another one in the handle of the shower and would have been focused right at my pussy when I was showering. That actually made me feel dirty in a way I can't even describe. And the last one was actually inside the toilet. Like, peeking out from under the rim. I didn't even want to think about what kind of fuck wad wanted to watch me take a piss. I'd never felt this violated in my entire life. I wasn't even certain if I'd have rather been raped then betrayed like this. Maybe I shouldn't talk because I've helped some women after an assault and they were pretty messed up. Even now I'm not sure. But just like a rape, this was made even worse because it involved someone I trusted.

Like I said, when I'd first seen the first camera, Emily had been sitting on the couch giving a little show. Which meant that she had known it was there and hadn't told me. In fact, she'd flat out encouraged me to basically flaunt myself at that little fucking lens. Every time she'd said 'let's work out' and 'we'll do it in the living room, there's more space', she'd been setting me up to get my ass stared at. My ass and my….

Fuck. Let's just stop at 'ass', alright? I know they'd have seen more shit but… Well, let's just stop there.

Anyway, every time that she said 'it's hot – just take your clothes off' was another link in the chain of betrayal. And in just a few moments standing there, I assembled a pretty long fucking chain in my mind. Finally, it so overwhelmed me that I actually growled out loud. That was what broke the moment. It caught Emily's attention and her head snapped sideways to look at me. First surprise filled her face. And then terror. She shoved herself backward, somehow trying to get farther into the couch. I started to scream at her. "Why?" I wailed. "Why in the fuck would you do this? Aren't you my friend? Haven't I been taking good enough care of you? Supporting you?" Her eyes were almost all pupil as I crossed the room and crouched down in front of her. At that moment, I still thought there had to be some sort of reason. An explanation. She couldn't be responsible for something so horrid. Maybe that bastard landlord had forced her or some old john was blackmailing her. I shoved her legs together and used my jacket to cover her nakedness. That was my job, to take care of the victims. "What does he have on you?" I begged because I didn't want her betrayal to be real. "You know you can trust me! You know I'll kill him as soon as you ask!" I pleaded with her to explain. But her eyes just stared back at them and somehow, the fear actually increased. And then she did the worst possible thing that she could have done. She didn't talk. She didn't explain. She didn't cry or collapse. She reached into between the cushions next to her and pulled out the gun I'd bought her. And pointed it at my head.

That's when I actually saw red. That's when I knew this must have been her fault. I like to pretend that I didn't decide what to do next. That it was just my reflexes taking over. But either way, within less than a second, the gun was spinning across the floor. It was spinning the same direction as I'd spun her neck. Both of them made a kind of a sick crunching noise. The gun when it hit the wall and her neck when I felt the bones snap in my hands.

Most of the time, I manage to forget the next part. But not that night. Lying in that hotel room staring at my bloody hands, I relived every single moment. The feel of my hands burning where they had scraped against her skin. The wobbly feeling of her neck after it broke. The smell, a strange mix of musk from her sex and filth from when death released all the fluids in her body. The way the light had just faded out of her eyes as she died. Her eyes only reflected the lamp across the room now. Eyes that right before her death had held a certainty I was going to kill her. No. Right before her murder. I'd killed her and I'd enjoyed it.

Hey guys? Please don't tell Dave about this. There are some things about my past, some secrets that I don't ever want to burden him with. Maybe someday. But not right now. The shame is still too strong.

Anyway, that fuckhead Jordan must have been watching Emily finger fuck herself live because the next thing I knew a baseball bat had smacked into my head and flung me across the room. My head hit the wall pretty hard but I still came up swinging. This time I didn't go for lethal. The first kill had been too fast. I hadn't gotten a chance to really savor it. There was a thirst in me for torment so strong that I actually understood vampire fiction for a little bit. So I knocked him down repeatedly until he couldn't get back up on his own and then I tied him to a chair. I was ready to take my time. I even cut his clothes off to try to reduce him to the same level of shame that I felt at their betrayal. It didn't make that much of an impact on him though. In fact, the fucker started to get a hard on. It got even worse when he looked over at Emily's body. He was actually getting more aroused looking at her naked corpse. I solved that problem by pinning one of his testicles to the chair with a knife. That took the wind out of his sails, so to speak. When he tried to scream, I shoved a piece of his shirt into his mouth. He moved and thrashed. He was trapped somewhere between trying to scream in rage or in pain. But the gag took care of the noise so I left him there while I collected a few more knives. Then I sat down in front of him and waited until he got himself back under control.

I started in on the questions then. I was already pretty sure about what had been going on but it seemed like fun to make him admit it. He only tried to deny involvement in the whole thing once. The loss of one of his fingers convinced him that tact was a no go. Over the next hour, I slowly forced him to admit everything that had been going on. He said that Emily had contacted him shortly after she and I had met. She wanted to pay him back for some favor and said had a cute little chit with a great ass that she was sure would be great on the net. She figured that if she and I moved into one of his apartments, there would be plenty of opportunities to show both of us naked. She even offered to try to seduce me where the cameras could watch. He went on and on about Emily trying to get me naked but kept claiming that he'd never turned the cameras on me. He said while he had no problems filming the willing, he hadn't felt right about doing that to a stranger.

It almost took another finger before he admitted how much bullshit that was. He admitted that while most of the videos of were of Emily, since she'd make sure she stayed in front of a camera to give a good show, there were also a couple of videos of me in the bathroom posted on various sites. He repeated over and over that nothing he had put up showed my face. As if somehow that made it okay to post them. And he went on and on about how amused Emily had been every time a video had gone up. "She'd not doing anything else with that hot little cunt." He claimed she'd say. "Somebody might was well enjoy it!"

I couldn't believe it. The lying whore had sold me out to this cocksucker for a few bucks and a lousy place to stay. Or, maybe she was the cocksucker… Never mind. I wasn't that surprised at his part in things. Angry but not surprised. Male depravity was pretty much business as usual for me. And I knew that all of his 'It was her idea' was probably crap. But I'd dealt with shit like him for years. I expected a guy to be that fucked up. The fact that a woman, more than that, a friend had set me up just made my blood burn. The cunt that I'd poured my heart out to had decided that somehow the world needed to see my junk. In all its glory. The poor stupid bitch that I'd offered a good life to, one where she didn't need to live in the shame that I now felt might as well have raped me. She'd told me I could take my good wishes and shove them up my ass. And I was the dumb bitch who had trusted her. I'd told her my secrets, who I was, about my confused feelings about Dave. Whether it had been her idea or hot, she still made the choice to betray me. I began to get angry that I'd killed her so quickly. She didn't have a dick to hang her off a building by but I'm sure I'd have come up with something appropriate.

Jordan finally passed out for a while. And since I didn't trust him as far as I could throw him – you know, that phrase doesn't work so well when you can throw people off of tall buildings… - I took Jordan's keys and went downstairs to get his computer. I knew there had to be some sort of digital trail to follow. A cursory search of it found that he'd been telling the truth. There were indeed lots of Emily videos posted and only a few of me, none of which showed my face. Thank god that none of the videos in his posted directory could be used to identify me. Well, not unless you knew where every scar and mole on my body.

Gotta be careful about Dave searching the web. He does know every single inch of me….

Well, whether Jordan actually had a tiny amount of decency to avoid my face or, more likely, he just hadn't been lucky enough to catch a good view I didn't know. I deleted everything that I could and hoped any copies would get lost among all the other similar crap on the net and not spend the next thirty years as 'video of the day' on a dozen porn sites.

A few slaps woke him out of the daze he'd drifted into while I was gone. His spirit was broken now and it didn't take any work at all to get him to outline where the rest of the cameras were and where the unused recordings were stored. I dug them out of the walls and then came back to him. He was crying at this point, and apologizing over and over. I looked him directly in the eyes. He stared back for a moment with just a little bit of hope brimming in his soul. Then he saw my eyes harden and started to beg. He wasn't ready to die. It was all Emily's fault. She had led him into temptation. He would make it up to me somehow. He'd give me all the money that he'd made. The desperation almost made me laugh. But I felt the pain of betrayal again every time he mentioned Emily so I shoved the rag back into his mouth.

I took a few minutes to hook the video equipment back up. I wanted to make sure there weren't any surprises left on them before I killed him and torched the building. It started with what I expected. Shots of Emily playing with herself. Shots of my ass, with and without panties. An extremely zoomed in video of me shaving in the shower. Somehow that one was almost funny. Maybe it was that fucking 'laugh or cry' reflex they talk about but the idea of someone paying $20 a month to watch me shave my legs was just absurd. It wasn't sexy. It was, well, boring. Maybe if I'd been shaving my snatch or something but seriously, it was just my legs. I was just about to just smash the drives and move onto t the creative way I was going to make him die when a folder with videos from his office caught my eye. He had it bugged too. The time and date of the first one showed that it was just after Emily and I had moved in. Jordan was giving Emily a rundown of all the camera location so she could be sure to expose herself in the right direction. But instead of the manic glee I expected to see on her face, her eyes had fallen a little more each time he went over another location. Finally she spoke up.

"You said that all I had to do to get us the apartment was to do videos of myself. In my room!" She growled at him. "You didn't say anything about recording Mindy."

That was weird, I thought. Jordan's story had been pretty clear that showing me naked was her plan from day one. I kept watching.

"Don't worry about it." He replied smoothly in the video. "I'll only post you. I just want more places to see you."

"I know, but that wasn't the deal we made. I told you I just wanted a place to live so I could pay her back for being so nice to me. I pay my debts, damn it!"

"Debts? Child, if you own anyone, it's me. I've kept you fed when you couldn't find someone to fuck and made sure you didn't have to sleep on the street. But times are tough and I'm not making that much money off this stuff anymore. You want me to be able to be able to keep taking care of you, right?" She nodded and he continued. "And you want to take care of your friend?" More nodding. "And you know how much I love you, right? That it kills me to do this to you but, well, we have to make a living, right?" More bobble. Dear lord, the bitch believed him completely. "You love me too, right?" Emily nodded again, tears streaming down her face now. He continued. "You have given her a good place to live. And your pictures will help pay me back for all I've done for you. I promise I won't save any pictures of her."

"You promise?" She said. "You swear?"

"I do."

"OK. I love you too. And I believe you."

The video ended and I skipped a little further down the list of files and played another one. It started with Jordan pushing even harder on how much this was costing him. "Look, I gave you the chance to take care of your friend. But well, I'm not making enough to cover the cost of the apartment, even with the rent she'd paying. But I've got an idea. How about if you get Mindy to walk around with less on? Get friendly with her. Don't use the AC. Maybe get her to exercise in some yoga pants or panties or some shit? Guys on the net eat that up and, seriously, what will it hurt? She'll never even know. And I won't show her face so it will be completely anonymous. But if I don't make a little more money, I'll have no choice but to find someone else to live there. Someone who loves me enough to do what needs to be done."

"Loves you… Jordan, I can't. Please don't make me. You won't if you really love me." She stared at him for several minutes before she realized he wasn't going to change his mind. "Fine." Emily said. "We'll move out."

I rewound the video to play that part again just in case I'd heard her wrong. I hadn't. She'd finally grown a backbone.

Jordan looked up at the ceiling for a moment as if to calm himself. But then he rose out of his chair, grabbed her, and shoved her against the wall. The camera actually shook he slammed her so hard. "You stupid little cunt. I thought I could play nice but I guess that's over."

"Over? You mean you don't love me anymore?" Her lip trembled.

"Love you? I've never loved you, you stupid whore. I love my wife. And my kids that you're helping to put in private school. But you're just a fucking meal ticket. And you'll do what I say or I'll make sure Mommy and Daddy back home find out what a slut their precious little daughter has turned out to be. I'll send them every picture and every video link."

"But… but… But my dad's dead and my mom…" She tried to say.

Jordan interrupted immediately. "You actually thought I bought your bullshit sob story when I rescued you from that but terminal? Fifteen years old and all you had was a used one way bus ticket, a tiny suitcase, and about seven dollars in change. You weren't the first dumb ass kid I've found that way and you won't be the last. But I do my homework, little miss schoolgirl. I checked you out shortly after I pulled you off that fucking bus. And I found out pretty much what I expected. Your dad isn't dead and there wasn't any funeral after which your mother disowned you. As every kid seems to do, when you left you made up some sob story so people would take care of you. All that really happened was that you panicked after fucking up during your PSAT's and for some dumb fucking reason, decided to run away from home. What? Never got anything less than perfect before? Dumb shit."

He relaxed his grip for a moment, as if remembering that honey would probably work better than more threats. "Look. Mommy and Daddy have been looking for you ever since you left. But they've been looking for their good girl, not some whore. It would break their hearts if they found out what you've been doing, right?"

Emily just nodded through tears.

"So here's what we're going to do. You get me some good stuff on this Mindy bitch and maybe I'll let you go home to them. Is that a deal? I'll give you a bus ticket and enough money to get there. You can make up whatever bullshit story you want to cover where you've been but only if you get me something good. Otherwise, daddy wakes up tomorrow morning to find pictures of his perfect daughter sucking cock on his phone."

I think part of Emily wanted to scream 'You wouldn't do that!' but her eyes said she'd finally figured out the real score. She swallowed and spoke. "My parents… They're really looking for me?"

Jordan sneered. "Yep. But they want the good girl who left, not the slut who blew me for a sandwich. So do what I say and I'll let you go home again. Deal?

Emily stood there for several minutes with the conflicting emotions playing across her face. Then she seemed to come to an answer. "I'll get you some good stuff. Get Mindy to be all sexy and shit. And I'll do whatever else you want. But just for a little while, OK?"

He nodded. "Now come over here and see if you can't make me feel good enough not to beat you black and blue." Then he reached down and began to unbutton his pants. I quickly stopped the video.

What the fuck? Her dad wasn't dead? Her mom wasn't horrible? She'd made up the whole bullshit story because she was ashamed of screwing up on a test? A test that she could even retake if she wanted? How dumb was this chick? Part of me was still angry at being lied to but the rest empathized with someone who didn't want to face her mistakes. Still, the rest of me hung onto the anger. She'd given in. She'd let this fucker record me naked. She knew I was Hit-Girl. All she had to do was tell me. All she would have had to do was trust me and I'd have made him pay for what he did and gotten safely home. She'd made her choices and then, when they'd gone bad, she'd tried to kill me.

There was one last video dated yesterday. My heart was pounding as I hit play.

"You're going to seduce her." Jordan purred. "I want to see you suck Hit-Girl's pussy. I'll even give you a thousand dollars and put you on the next plane home if you can get her to wear her costume while you do her."

I watched as the color drained out of Emily's face on the video.

"Hit-Girl? Who's Hit-Girl? She's not… I mean… what makes you think…?" Emily just stammered.

"Oh don't play stupid now. I've been watching you two for weeks. I've even seen her costume. I know who she is. I know everything."

Emily looked back at him. "No fucking way! I won't do it! I'll…. I'll… I'll tell her. I'll tell Mindy what you've been forcing me to do. You're right, she is Hit-Girl! And she'll kill you if you don't leave us alone."

"Kill me? Honey, if she's going to kill anyone, it's going to be you. You're the one who got her into all of this." His voice was like honey. Evil fucking honey.

"But I didn't mean too…. I just wanted to give her a place to live; to pay her back for everything she'd done for me…. And she's my friend. She'll…"

Jordan laughed. "She'll understand? Is that what you were going to say? You don't really believe that, do you? Have you ever heard anything about Hit-Girl being 'understanding'? Trust me bitch. If she ever finds out what you've done, your only choice will be to kill her before she kills you. Keep that cute little gun she gave you nice and close because that bitch is psychotic."

Emily looked down at her feet, then back at him. And despite everything I could wish, I knew that Emily had believed Jordan. She'd believed in his lies instead of in my friendship. She'd believed in the hype instead of in me. She was completely convinced that if I found out, I'd kill her. And that that's why, when I'd knelt before her and given her a chance to explain, she'd just grabbed the gun. She knew it was her or me. And the worst part? He'd been right.

I'd killed my friend. I hadn't questioned her fear. I hadn't taken the gun away from her and found out what was really going on. I'd reached out and simply snapped her neck like a twig.

That beautiful young girl had, despite how much I cared about her, how much I tried to take care of her, had believed deep in her heart that I was a monster. She hadn't trusted me. And she'd been right. I wasn't worth trusting. I was the reason Emily was dead. We could have been dancing on Jordan's corpse right now but instead he was still alive and she was gone.

It was my fault that she'd never get to reconcile with her mom and dad. It was my fault that they'd never get some sort of closure. They'd spend the rest of their lives looking outside the porch windows at night hoping their sweet girl would appear from the darkness. They'd always wonder what they did to drive her away.

I hadn't destroyed one life. No, Hit-Girl never goes halfway. I'd destroyed three.

A deep sob brought me out of my reverie for a second. When you do what I do, it's very dangerous to look inside your soul. There's no way that you can make the right call every single time. Sooner or later you're going to make a mistake. But lying on that hotel mattress with the blood finally starting to clot around my fingers, I couldn't stop looking. I wasn't a superhero. I wasn't even a vigilante. I was a murderer. I was as bad as the people I fought. I was responsible for so much pain in the world. More than I could even imagine. And it had started so long ago. I could have convinced Daddy not to waste his life pursuing vengance. I had him wrapped around my finder and if I'd really tried to change him, he'd have stopped. I could have at least asked for the puppy instead of a balisong. If I had, Daddy would still be alive. Dave's dad would still be alive too because no one would have dragged Dave into killing D'Amico. The Colonel would be alive, passing out blankets to the homeless or taking care of Eisenhower. There wouldn't have been any need for revenge. My grief took over again.

I was trapped in my memories again. Back in the apartment. There were no more videos to watch. I'd just lived what had happened after. I looked over at Emily's body and the tears began to just steam down my face. I walked back over to Jordan. He'd been quiet while I watched the videos of his office. He knew what they contained. His eyes were wide. I looked at the knife in my hands for a moment and then everything inside me shattered. I began to stab him over and over. But the strikes weren't aimed. I even missed him a few times and I was right on top of him. His blood spurted across the room painting odd patterns on the walls. I didn't know if I was screaming or crying or silent as a tomb. In my mind, it wasn't Jordan whose blood was painting the room. It wasn't Jordan who felt every thrust strike home. It wasn't Jordan who died on the blade of my knife.

It was me. Because I was the one who deserved to die.


	23. Chapter 23 - Out of Town

On the Run

_Please review. I respond to every review unless I miss one in error. If so – Please send me another message. I want to talk to you. This one is getting pretty graphic and destructive. But that's the trip I'm taking Mindy on and it can't be done if it stays 'PG'. Thank you all for reading. _

"It's impossible to worry about anything else when there is blood coming out of you." That's a quote from a movie I saw recently and normally, it's totally true. But not so much at the moment. Instead, I hated. No, that last sentence isn't messed up. 'I hated' was a perfect summary of how I felt lying on that dirty mattress. There wasn't one specific thing that I hated. I hated every single possible thing. I hated the world. I hated all of the bad people in the world that made my job even possible. I hated Daddy for leaving me all alone. I hated Marcus for not finding a way to make my life work. I hated my Ducati because you can't ride a motorcycle while you're sobbing and that's all I could do. I hated Emily for not trusting me enough to tell me what was going on. More than that, I hated her for making me kill her.

I even hated Dave because I knew he'd never have killed a friend. He hadn't even fucking killed Todd and that cocksucker had basically got Dave's dad killed. I hated him because he was the only person I wanted to talk to and I couldn't call him. Not because he wouldn't pick up, because he'd definitely answer the phone. Not because he wouldn't have been understanding and comforted me, because he totally would have done all of that. Not because he wouldn't have dropped everything to come and take care of me. Take me home. Make me soup. Tell me he loves me. Maybe even kiss me?

I hated Dave because he would do every single one of those things, except maybe the love/kiss shit, and I didn't deserve a single fucking one of them. Especially not the fucking kiss.

I don't love me, so no one else gets to fucking love me, GOT IT?!

Eventually the tears stopped. I didn't feel any better but there is a limit to how long you can cry. I tried to wipe my eyes and it hurt like a motherfucker. Salt in the wounds basically. So I got up and stumbled back to the bathroom where I promptly cut my foot open on one of the pieces of glass I'd broken out of the mirror with my fists.

Do you want to know how bad I was feeling? It's pretty simple. I didn't bother to swear. Or scream. I just accepted as something I deserved and pulled the disinfectant out of the first aid kit I always carried. That hurt too when I poured it over my hands and my foot but, again, I just suffered in silence. I managed to get my foot bandaged up OK but then I discovered another downside of being all alone.

It's pretty much impossible to bandage up your own hands. Well, at least to do so in any way that the wrappings wouldn't fall off as soon I turned around. Even if I could have done it, some of those cuts were going to require stitches. So I grabbed my shit and headed out into the night.

In retrospect, I probably should have cleaned the blood off of my face. Not that I was injured there but I'd been rubbing my eyes a lot and, well, you get the picture. In my defense, I will remind you that the mirror was broken so how in the hell was I supposed to know how hideous I looked? I wandered the streets and, of all places, managed to end up at a battered women's shelter. You'd expect them to freak when they saw me but apparently the women they usually see look worse off than I did. A very nice woman cleaned me up and then a doctor that they had on call came in and sewed up the worst of the slashes in my fingers. Throughout the entire procedure, I didn't speak. Not one word. They asked who had done this to me and, as much as I tried, I couldn't look them in the eye. I'd done this to me but there was no way I could admit that. That convinced them that some guy had done it so they didn't push the question too hard. Again I figure that it's pretty typical for the women they see. They asked if I wanted to report anything to the police and I just shook my head. Then they talked a lot about things not being my fault and about how the only way out of my situation was to let them help me. Every word made me feel worse. Which was pretty much what I wanted so I just kept listening.

Every single one of their assumptions about me was wrong. That's what made it the perfect poison to listen to. There wasn't anybody else. I was my own attacker. No one had done this to me; it was entirely my own fault. I could have stopped all of this and I didn't. They talked about how it was OK to be weak, that everyone is sometimes and even with my bandaged hands, I still could have killed every single person in that building. And the cops who responded if someone had managed to call 911 before I got to them. Their standard spiel designed to help a woman who had been abused was a joyous kick to my gut reminding me of everything that I'd done wrong. I still hadn't spoken through all of this. Finally, when it looked like they were going to call the police or put me in in a nuthouse or something, I got ahold of myself enough to make them understand that I just wanted to be left alone. They made me give them a name first. Just a first name, but I had to give them one. So I did.

I said I was Emily.

And from then on, that's who I was. I'm not sure why. Maybe at first it was a way to hold onto her. I gave them the bullshit story about her Dad dying and the funeral and ending up on her own. Not the real PSAT story because, just like Emily, there was no way I was going to admit I'd been that stupid. I told them about being a hooker on the streets, blending together what Emily had told me with all the hellish things I'd seen as Hit-Girl. That prompted them to take a sample of my blood and check for STD's. I was going to fight them on it but then figured, why?

I was clean by the way. Seriously dumb ass, I'm a fucking virgin so what the hell did you expect? OK, I suppose I've been around enough of other people's blood that something like hepatitis was certainly a small possibility but I'd always been as careful as I could be. So I was fine. Clean bill of health. Well, clean assuming you disregarded the injured hands, injured foot, and whatever mental fuck had caused me to decide to keep being Emily. Because as the night went on, my desire to somehow keep Emily's memory alive transformed into a partial delusion. I answered to it. I became her. And then they asked me one more time who had done all of this to me. And looked at them clearly and answered.

"Mindy. Mindy did this to me. And I don't ever want to see that bitch again."

I hadn't quite cracked enough to give them a last name so they couldn't file a police report. And apparently lesbians beat the shit out their significant others too because it didn't faze them in slightest that I'd given a female name.

You know, that's pretty sad. You'd hope that in a relationship with two females, neither one would abuse the other. But human nature is human nature regardless of gender so there always were going to be those bad apples out there. I guess that it's really just fucking sad that it happens to anyone, regardless of gender or orientation.

They let me get some sleep. When I woke up in the morning, my consciousness kind of hovered between being Emily and being Mindy. But being Mindy meant going back to the pain and the self-hate. So I chose to be Emily again. An overly happy volunteer got me out of bed and helped me eat breakfast since my hands weren't all that functional with all the bandages. From there we went to support group. I wasn't really asked, it was just assumed that I'd go and I certainly wasn't in a mood to fight anyone. I didn't talk during that first session. There was another one that afternoon and I started to tell the group part of my story. Well, technically Emilie's story but like I said, I'd decided that I was Emily. They told me about how brave I'd been to decide to finally get help and somehow that made me feel better. So the next day, I told them a little bit more. And got more affirmations. It was like a fucking drug and I could have spent the rest of my life living in that little pool of safety. But after a few days, two things got in the way. The first one was that I hadn't completely gone round the bend. I did actually know that I was Mindy. I didn't want to know it but I did. But while I could have lived with that, the second problem wasn't so easily overcome. Because as I listened to the others tell story after story of the hell that they'd been through and how they'd escaped it, I realized that I wanted to tell them my story. Not Emily's story, but Mindy's. Part of me thought that confessing it might help me find a little bit of the peace that these women had found. Maybe if I came clean I could go back to being Hit-Girl.

And I couldn't. I was trapped. I'd woven such a web of lies that there wasn't room for me to fit in even a little bit of how I'd grown up. I couldn't tell them about Big Daddy because I'd already painted a complete picture of Emily's Daddy. And I couldn't tell them about growing up without a mom because they knew what a witch Emily's was. Well, Emily's fake mom, but still….

Once again, I'd done it to myself. I'd created my own little hell. All those little supportive comments that used to light me up like a narcotic now reminded me of what a lying evil bitch I was. These women had gone through the fire and emerged stronger. I'd burned to a crisp. I'd given up. That was when the bad feelings came back. I couldn't hide inside of Emily anymore. My refuge was gone. Late one night, I begged some paper and a pen. I wrote out my entire story. I figured that if I maybe slid it under the door of the center's director and then left before they read it, I'd get the absolution I wanted without having to face their confusion. Or hurt. Or betrayal. I explained everything. I admitted how I'd lied and how weak I'd been. I admitted that I'd accepted their help under false pretenses. I put every little thing on paper.

Then I packed my stuff and went downstairs. I went up to the office door and, just as I was about to slide the papers underneath, it opened. The director stood there caught mid yawn and stretch as she'd opened the door.

"Emily? I see you're packed. Are you leaving us?"

My fingers tightened on the papers and I nodded.

"Are you going back to Mindy?" She asked.

I had to clear my throat before I could speak. "Yes."

"Are you sure that you don't want to report her to the police? She might kill you next time, you know. Or you could stay here longer or we could find you a new place or…" She trailed off when I could no longer meet her gaze. Then she let out a deep sigh. In that sound, I heard every time that she'd said these words and been rejected. I heard every tear she shed when the police came to tell her that another one of the women she'd tried to save had been killed by her abuser. And I heard her deep understanding and grief that the decisions made by those women were not hers to make. I heard her let go of me. Then she noticed the letter that I'd crumpled in my fist. "Did you want to give me that? Before you left I mean?"

I looked back up to her eyes and I couldn't do it. That letter was basically me begging her to absolve me of my sins and I couldn't do it. I couldn't ask this woman for forgiveness. I couldn't ask for something I didn't deserve.

"It's…. It's something from Mindy. And…. I don't want it to even exist anymore. Could we maybe burn it before I go?" I still don't know how I managed to get those words out.

She smiled. "Sure. Maybe it will give you a little bit of peace." And so she took me to the kitchen and we lit each page and then dropped it in the sink to burn. When it was completely gone she ran water to rinse the ashes away. Then she looked at me. "Did that help honey?"

I couldn't lie. Not one more time. "No." I said. "Thank you, though, for trying." Then I picked up my bag and walked out the back door.


	24. Chapter 24

On the Run

_Please review. I respond to every review unless I miss one in error. If so – Please send me another message. I want to talk to you. This one is getting pretty graphic and destructive. But that's the trip I'm taking Mindy on and it can't be done if it stays 'PG'. Thank you all for reading. Trigger warning – Suicide._

I didn't go and find a shitty motel room this time. I went deeper into the city and snuck up the stairs of the tallest building I could find. Then I went out on the roof to look at the stars. This was an OK place to be alone. I listened to the quieting noises of the late night below me while I changed into my Hit-Girl outfit. It seemed appropriate. Then I found a reasonable comfortable place to sit and just leaned back. After a few minutes, I pulled Emily's little pink handled pistol out of my pocket. I stared at it for a long time, trying to make some sense out of the tragedy.

It was time to count up the lives that I had destroyed. Recently anyway, I wasn't ready to go back to before I'd left New York. Jordan was dead. I didn't feel all that bad about killing him except that his wife and kids probably had no idea how evil he was. They'd probably be broke now and those kids would end up going to public school instead of private. Ultimately, it wasn't my problem. I thought about contacting his wife at least to tell her what had happened. No. Him dying in a fire would be enough of an end to his existence. I'd torched the building when I left after making sure the place was empty. We were apparently his only tenants at the time. The police might eventually figure out that I'd actually stabbed him to death before he burned or find the evidence of all the hidden cameras. If so, his family could deal with the fallout. It sucked but I didn't owe them anything. Plus, in my heart, I didn't want to find out if they'd known about what he was doing and approved of it. It was better to let that go.

On to what actually mattered. Emily was dead at my hands. Nothing was going to change that. Not pretending to be her, not singing her name from the rooftops, nothing. Tears started leaking from my eyes but they were absorbed by my mask before they could roll down my cheeks. That was a use for a mask that I'd never thought of before. Maybe that was one of the reasons superheroes loved them so much. I tossed Emily's pistol back and forth from hand to hand a few times, then made myself set it down. That was, as they say, that.

Just like Jordan, Emily had family and loved ones who would be devastated by what had happened. But these ones were my responsibility. I owed them in the way that Emily had always felt she owed me. It came down to deciding which would be best for them. Either make sure they find out their daughter is dead or let them always wonder what had happened to her. At first, I was really tempted to just let them go on believing she was alive. I mean, they were already doing that so it wouldn't be any sort of change. Their lives would continue as is. But that was where that idea broke down. If they never knew, they would never move on. Not that 'move on' is what you want to do from a dead child but… Well, I think you know what I'm talking about. Today it is easier for them to hope she is alive. Maybe tomorrow too. But how about a thousand tomorrows? Years? An entire life spent hoping that their little girl will come back in that door. A girl who will never age in their minds. And a life where every moment of every day they get to wonder what happened to her. Where they get to blame themselves, blame each other, blame the darkness.

I am the darkness. I took their child. I am the only thing that deserves their blame. Other people abused their daughter. But I killed her. I'm the reason she can't go home.

I dug into my pocket and pulled out a cheesy little phone that I'd found in Jordan's stuff. He had kept tighter controls on the girls he took by taking their phones. Each one even had a neat little label with a name on it. As best I could tell, Emily had been the only one working for him right now though…. I wondered what had happened to the others but it was too late to find out now. It honestly wouldn't surprise me if he'd killed them and dropped them in the river. Anyway, I'd dropped most of the phones in a mailbox with a note for the postal worker to give them to the police. Maybe that would let some other parents out there find out what happened to their kid. But I'd kept the one with the plain little label that said 'Emily.'

I turned it on. Thankfully it had a lot of battery left in it because I hadn't even considered grabbing a charging cord. I scrolled through it. There were happy pictures of a beautiful family. There were pictures of Emily with friends. Some were posed and some were silly selfies. I went through her texts. The oldest ones were with her friends and parents. Lots of LOL's and TTYL's. Teenspeak. Then worried messages with friends talking about how she didn't feel ready to take the PSAT. Her last message sent in every single conversation was 'Goodbye.' She sent it to all of them at the same time, probably right after she'd walked out of the test. Jesus, she wouldn't have even known yet if she'd flunked the thing. Maybe she just blanked and didn't fill out a single bubble. There were tons and tons of messages from everyone she knew asking her what 'goodbye' meant. Messages that started pretty worried and then went hysterical. Her parents sent message after message pleading for her to come home. They told her over and over that they didn't care what had happened, what she'd done. They just wanted her to come home. More messages kept flooding in as I read. They must have been sent after the phone had been turned off and were just waiting to be received. Her parents had kept her phone on, paying for it every month, sending her more sad requests to please come home. That meant that they hadn't given up hope.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

It was time to destroy that hope. It was time to pull the trigger. They needed to know what had happened. They needed a chance to grieve. They needed the chance to say goodbye. I started to type.

"Dear Emily's loved ones. I'm sorry. When you heard this message arrive, it probably made your heart sing with hope and happiness. And I wish to God I had better news for you. I do not. Your daughter is dead. This isn't an easy way to say it so I won't try to find one. She loved you. She loved you all very much. She made some mistakes, she panicked, and she ended up in a life she didn't know how to escape. When I knew her, I didn't know that she had people who loved her so much out there in the world. If I had, I'd have put her on a plane and made her go home to you. I'd have saved her. Because that's what I usually do. I save people. But this time I failed.

There was a man. Jordan. I've already sent all of his information to the police and it's entirely possible that they'll contact you before you've had a chance to read this. But you still deserve this message from me. He'd taken her phone away from her and put her to work on the streets. She never got your messages of love and forgiveness. Instead, he convinced her that he loved her and that she needed to work the streets to take care him. He convinced her that no one else in this world loved her but him.

And then she ran into me. I got her off the street and I gave her a place to live and I tried to lift her out of bad choices she'd made. I gave her money so she didn't have to sell herself to eat. I tried to be her friend. She was happy for a time at least. But she didn't tell me about you all. And she didn't tell me how bad Jordan really was.

I'm not asking for your forgiveness because I don't deserve it. I'm contacting you because I want you to be able to find some sort of closure. To grieve for your child. I don't know that you'll care but I'm be grieving too.

Near the end, she found out that you wanted her to come home. And she did the things she did in the hopes of seeing you again. I wish she'd told me that Jordan had made her do those things. I wish I'd been a good enough friend that she trusted me. I'd have done all of this the right way.

There was a mistake. I thought she was the bastard that Jordan actually was. And I so I killed her thinking I was removing filth from the world. I was horribly wrong. When I found out the truth, I killed Jordan for putting both of us in that mess. But it didn't bring her back.

Please know that your daughter died knowing that you loved her. The police have video from Jordan's surveillance cameras that will let you see that for yourself. So you don't have to believe me. That's what matters here. She died knowing that you'd welcome her home. And I'm so sorry I didn't get her there.

I destroyed one of the two people responsible for her death. Jordan is gone. And now I'm going to destroy the remaining one. Me."

I agonized forever before I hit send. Then I picked back up Emily's pistol and looked at it. No. Too easy. One click and gone. I considered knives but I didn't think I'd manage to just keep sawing at myself until I died. I looked back up at the stars through eyes still blurred by tears. Tears that I didn't even deserve to have. I shoved back the grief because I didn't even deserve to miss her. I stood up and walked to the edge of the building. And without another thought I jumped.

And I fell.

Did you just gasp? Did I make you do that? Go ahead and take minute to recover. I'll wait.

Ready? Good. In case you hadn't done the math, I obviously didn't die. I'm even going to shoot myself in the head (BY ACCIDENT!) in a few weeks and that won't kill me either. I'm telling you about what happened before all that shit started so obviously I have to make it through this. But I did jump. I expected to die. I intended to die.

Unfortunately, or I guess, fortunately, kind of depends on your perspective, I'd paid so little attention to the building that I'd perched on top of that I didn't realize that about 15 feet down from the roof was an office with a balcony. Privileges of the rich I guess. That kind of shit. And I landed smack down flat in the middle of it and knocked myself unconscious. And then, a few hours later, with a bright sun shining on me and fucking birds chirping, I woke up.

And when I say I woke up, I mean I really woke up. I actually knocked some sense into myself. It's actually kind of frightening that I have to get hit in the head to figure shit out.

I looked out at the city which wasn't my city. And I missed home. I missed Marcus. I missed Dave. I wasn't ready to see them yet but I could finally admit to myself that I wanted to go back. I accepted the fact that dying wasn't going to do one fucking thing to make the world a better place. I wasn't exactly sure what would make it better but me splattered across the pavement definitely wasn't it. I didn't hate myself anymore. I didn't exactly love myself either but at least for now, the hate had bled away. It was to a certain degree obscured by the pain from the phenomenal bruise that covered me from head to toe. But I also felt that, with the suicide attempt, I'd killed that part of me that wanted to die. At least for now. I pulled off my mask and threw it into the wind. I wasn't letting go of Hit-Girl but I was letting go of the pain from the tears that still soaked it. And then I went over to the door leading from the balcony into the building, broke it open, and went off to find an absolute fuck ton of Advil.


	25. Chapter 25 - The last chapter

On the Run

_Please review. I respond to every review unless I miss one in error. If so – Please send me another message. I want to talk to you. This one is getting pretty graphic and destructive. But that's the trip I'm taking Mindy on and it can't be done if it stays 'PG'. Thank you all for reading. Trigger warning – previous attempted Suicide. This might be shorter because I want to post something new after mis-posting the last chapter. _

I'd found a not too skeezy place to crash and downed about half a bottle of Advil. My entire body hurt like a mother fucker. Not like The Mother Fucker, because he'd been eaten by a shark and wasn't feeling anything now other than maybe being shark shit. I'd considered taking a couple of real pain killers. I had them in my kit but only used them when I otherwise couldn't stand the pain. I mostly avoided them because they made me to groggy and really, too depressed. And depression needed to be avoided at all costs. It was time build a bridge and get the hell over my problems. Preferably the Brooklyn Bridge and get myself the fuck back into New York.

I slept off some of the pain and then got up to take a shower. My entire back was black and blue. I wasn't dead and nothing seemed to be broken, so overall, I still had to put it in the 'Win' column. And I'd be a lovely shade of purple in a day or two. Kidding/not kidding. I still felt like garbage so I basically painted myself in Icy Hot (which worked better than Bengay) and went back to bed.

For the next two days, I basically did a rinse and repeat on that process while occasionally breaking up the monotony by ordering a pizza. I really wanted to just go join a gym and use their steam room / hot tubs but explaining all of the bruises would have been way too much of a pain in the ass. And I had enough pain in my ass, thank you very much.

The depression wasn't gone. It was still there taunting me from the edges. Part of what kept it away was that I'd finally decided I didn't have time to feel that way anymore. I had a life to live and a fuck load of regret wasn't going to get me any closer to where I wanted to be. The other part was that my suicide attempt had left me feeling, well, reborn. I'd intended to die. I'd planned to. I'd made my peace with it. And, well, it hadn't happened. So I decided that maybe the universe was sending me a message. Something like

Universe: "Hey, Hit-Girl? It would be really fucking stupid to kill yourself after all the trouble I just went through to keep you alive."

Me: "What? You made that building that way just so I'd be a dumb ass and fail to jump off it it? Really?"

Universe: "Yes indeed I did. Pretty fucking clever, right?"

Me: "Not really. If you went to that much trouble, would it have killed you to have put a bunch of pillows on that balcony?"

Universe: "Hey, you jumped off of a skyscraper and lived. Quit your bitching!"

And from there, the conversation in my head really started to get silly. I suppose that I probably had a bit of a concussion but mostly, it was a way not to focus on the enormous fuck up that I'd turned my life into. Plus, the TV didn't work and I was really, really bored.

Finally I could move a bit more freely and my black and blue bruises were more purple and green. And then green and yellow as I got more of my strength back. I finally decided that my body didn't look too terrible to go to the gym. I prepared this elaborate story about how I'd been in a car accident and almost died, but saved by this sexy firefighter that I wanted to get in shape to meet and impress and maybe even get jiggy with. Whatever the fuck 'jiggy' was. I wasn't exactly sure. Anyway, I had my identity and story down pat. I even downloaded a random picture of a firefighter off the net, Photoshopped myself into it, and then printed it at the local Walgreen's. Then I headed on into the gym.

Not one fucking person asked me why my skin was five different colors. Not even when I was in the steam room. I was extremely disappointed. Three guys did try to pick me up though. Ask me out I mean, not literally pick me up. I was in a gym so I thought I should clarify. Only one guy tried to actually lift me up but then I 'accidentally' elbowed him in the throat and he put me down nice and gentle like. I spent the rest of the week getting back in shape.

I was mortally tired of being alone. I mean, even while I'd been with Emily, it wasn't the same as home. Home was New York. Pizza. Avoiding that naked cowboy dude in Times Square. Beating up drug dealers in Queens. Jogging in Central Park at 2 AM to see if any of the fishies wanted to bite.

It was smaller, less dramatic things too. I actually missed homework. And being sent to my room by Marcus and then sneaking back out. Working out with Dave. Watching movies with Dave. Reading comics with Dave. Running faster than Dave and laughing when he can't catch me. Taking long walks with Dave. Having midnight talks with Dave. Trying to find another opportunity to kiss Dave without seeming slutty….

I'm getting a little fucking repetitive, aren't I?

Don't get me wrong. Emily's death still haunted me. But I've done a lot of awful things that stare at me when I try to go to sleep in the darkness. I decided to let this become one of them. Heroes in the comics always had stories like that. Next time I would be more careful. Next time I would ask a few questions before doing something permanent. And even though I couldn't make up for what I'd done, I could look out for other girls in the same situation as Emily and make sure that they got to go home. It wasn't forgiveness but it might become atonement.

What I needed now was to go home. I needed life to be back to normal. I probably couldn't live with Marcus anymore but I could at least make things up to him. And I could see Dave again. I could figure out what on earth I really felt about him. Was I just crushing? Was it more? Did he feel the same way or did he still just think I was a kid?

I was ready to back and live inside the fuzzy blanket, so to speak. I packed things up for the last time, tossed all the stuff that was a pain to carry on a bike, and sped off into a glorious sunrise.

And, to go back to the beginning of this story, that was the mindset that got me shot in the fucking head. I'd been ready to be welcomed by Marcus. Marcus was gone. Forever as far as I knew at the time. Which meant that I'd lost the only person I had left as a father figure. And then Dave swept in and even though I'd initially planned on looking for romance, he slid into the father role instead. And that was all because of living alone. It was because of what happened with Jordan and Emily. It was the result of facing the darkness, surviving, but still needing time to heal.

It was because I needed love. Love was the only thing that banished the darkness. It just took a while to figure out what kind of love I was actually looking for.

You know what, I was wrong. Dave needs to hear this story. Even the embarrassing parts. There's still a part of him that hasn't forgiven himself for the hooker we didn't save and the pimp he beat to death. He needs to know that I went through something even more intense and survived it. Technically I didn't survive it on purpose, but , fuck it, I'm still not dead and that's all that really matters in the end.

And I'll even make him a deal. If he promises to NEVER look for those naked pictures of me online, I'll give him a show that he'll never, ever forget.

And if he breaks the promise? Well, then he gets a beating that he might well forget due likelihood of massive head trauma.

That way we both win.

Thank you for reaching the end of this story. I'm going to take some good advice this time and move new things to a separate story. For those of you who come back to read this later, I might re-write it and put the whole thing in sequence, so please don't be too confused if you read it again soon and it doesn't begin with the absurd peeing hospital scene.

For those of you reading other things, I am going to write a final chapter for "It takes one to raise one". Eventually. When I don't hate everything I put on the page. I'm trying to finish it with something more than 'Mindy killed all of the bad guys and then they all lived happily ever after.' And it's not working.

And I haven't decided if the next work will be original or a non-Bethany sequel to this story. Take the whole thing in another direction. If you have a vote, idea, or suggestion, let me know.


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